BC Trumps BU. Eats Baby.

WORCESTER--This past week the BU Men’s Hockey team fell in a devastating loss to the Eagles of Boston College during the final game of the NCAA Regionals in what many are calling a “soul-crushing sequence of events,” one that has “utterly squashed [my] will to live,” making many fans “question the very fabric of [their] existence.” The contest determined which of the four Northeast regional teams would have the honor of competing in this year’s Frozen Four tournament in Milwaukee, and was not, in many opinions, a true display of the Terriers’ ability this season. When asked to comment, one BU fan simply sighed and shook his head before walking into oncoming traffic.

Although the Icedogs bested the Eagles in four consecutive games leading up to the playoffs, when it really mattered, the Eagles showed up to play. And consume human infant flesh. “Yeah, it’s sorta this weird tradition a few of the older guys started a while back. It seemed to bring us good luck, so we just kept doin’ it,” said sophomore goaltender Cory Schneider. “At first I was all, ‘Ew, no way, that’s a real-life baby! No way am I gonna eat that!’ but after a while you sorta get used to it. I’m at the point now, where having done it for so long, it barely even registers in my mind.” Added junior Forward Brian Boyle, “This one time I punched the baby before I ate it and all the guys were just crackin’ up. Now it’s sorta my thing.”

While some fans view the practice as unorthodox, or worse, illegal, a large majority of BC’s “Superfans” find solace in the ritual. Sophomore Brandon Stevens likens it to a family: “In a family there are certain traditions that you have—like some families eat the same dinner every Christmas, and other families pass down wedding rings from generation to generation. Well, it’s a lot like that, only in this case our players eat a baby before, and sometimes during as well as after, a hockey game. I really don’t see what the big deal is. Besides, who cares about hockey anyway?”

Moments after the final second ticked off the game clock, the sound of students’ cheers could be heard all over campus accompanied by trumpet fanfare and barking dogs. As the students rushed to the quad, senior Marc Livingston commented, “Yeah, it’s pretty sweet that we won I guess—I mean look at this T-shirt. Pretty awesome huh? But I really can’t talk now—we have to hunt down a few babies before the team gets back to campus or they’ll be pretty ticked off.”

When asked for her reaction to her team’s big win, freshman Ashley Lisenco bared her blood-stained fangs and, beating her chest, shrieked into the night air in a blood-curdling display of Boston College fandom. Although the atmosphere was one of quiet terror, the torches held by the students clearly and brilliantly illuminated the excitement in their youthful, predatorial eyes.

“We have to be quiet when we’re hunting babies for the team to eat, because if the parents hear you coming, they usually lock the door or pull out a gun,” said one junior who asked that he remain nameless, not because of a desire for anonymity, but because “the brain-washing really does a number on your short-term memory.”

Coach Jerry York best summed up the team’s season as only Coach York can: “You know, these guys have worked so hard this year—I told ‘em, ‘Win or lose in Milwaukee, you guys can leave knowing that you fought the whole way there.’ I’m just so proud of them—plus, they really love the taste of baby flesh. I mean, what can I say? They’re crazy for it!”

Wall o' classes Part 1

Here is the final line-up for Part 1 of my Wall of Classes:

Wall o’ classes


DAY 1→ A Friday

8AM – CAS AN 102 A6 – PRB 106 (3 Cummington) Muller

9AM - Ins & Theor Exp AM 310 A3 -- Murray ENG 113


10AM – GRS RN607 REL Room 404→ Prof Klepper


11AM – ES302: Earth History CAS B31C (MWF)


12PM Marxism? PH 418 → Professor Cao, STH 541


1PM – Morphogenesis: 5 Cummington St. Room 121→ Patt


2PM – CL 213 Greek/Roman Mythology in CAS 522, professor Ruck


3PM – Food and Culture

Part 2 will have to be on a separate day unfortunately because there are very few classes past 4PM on Fridays. So it'll be a Friday/Monday affair. Like a June/December wedding. Or something like that...

Topo

Also coming soon...

Weekly installments of Topo.

Our Town

At long last, Our Town...

Coming soon.

Lemme show ya life! Urrrrghhh!

So me and JAFFY are walking back from a picture show and Jaf says, "Lemme show ya a shortcut." So we tread alongside the D line tracks behind Landmark Center and I am fairly certain we'll be butchered and raped but Jaf says, "Nah, fuhgeddaboutit!" before bending one of his fingers back until it snaps at the joint. "Gosh that smarts!" he yelled. Just as we're about to emerge onto one of Beacon's side streets, our eyes fall upon a little urchin man on the street. The smell of alcohol was detectable from the ten foot distance that separated the strangely clothed man from me and Jafman. "Lemme show ya life!" he yelled. Then he yelled it again, followed by a distinctive (and vindictive) "urrrrghhh!"

We high-tail it out of there because if there's one thing we hate more than drunkard homelesses, it's drunkard homelesses with unkempt facial hair. For shame. We ease a little, from a sprint to a light trot and Jaffy remarks, "Wouldn't it be hilarious if we just went back there and murdered him?" Boy, did we laugh! But that got me thinking, suppose we did go back there and stab the life out of his malnourished body (to say under nourished would imply that he is not consuming anything, which just isn't true...he reeked of whiskey! Am I right, Jaffy?!): would anyone care? Probably not. And then I got quiet and sad. But then I realized, Hey, if we can't murder the homeless to better define our existential boundries, who CAN we murder? Am I right?!?

Awww....

The cutest thing...

My wife Nancy just came in from gathering...boy, does she love it. In fact the only reason she ever stops gathering is because it's getting dark out. If it weren't for that sun, she'd never sleep, a zombie addicted to the rush out of shoving many, many acorns into her cheek sac, never blinking, never breathing. Dead alive.

So she gets inside and sort of spits/vomits the acorns onto the living room carpet. So I walk in to the room, see the mess and go, Nancy, I hope you're planning on cleaning that up. I said it with my usual flair and wit. Next thing I know, Nancy leaps up and attacks me. I guess I must've startled her. I passed out before long so what happened next is just hearspeak. My neighbor Mike, always suspicious of Nancy (believe me, he's not the first), likes to lurk outside of our house with a loaded dart gun (ditto). Mike, seeing what was happening, busts the front door in and without a moment's hesitation, fires a few darts into Nancy's neck. He's a real hawk-eye...sorta like me, only with a gun. I did play college ball, ya know...

Now they're holding Nancy at a local animal prison. When I came to I asked Mike, why an animal prison? Because she's an animal, he says. Half and half I remind him and then I add, But she's all woman, if you know what I mean.

Be it as it may, he replies, they might have to put Nancy down and we both laugh until I realize what he means by "put her down" (I was thinking sex) and I stop laughing, but Mike just keeps on going.

TO BE CONTINUED...

A 17th Century Treatise on the Modern Majordomo

Name's Pete, but you can call me Pete, Peter, or just plain Pete. So the other day my buddy Ryan asks me, "Hey, Sam, how's tricks?" I says, "Ryan, you gotta stop referring to me as your dead son, it's time you got help." So Ryan runs off blabbering, tryin' ta pull his hair out and begging God to take him when I spot a pal of mine eatin' a sandwich 'cross the road. I leap across both lanes of traffic and land in front of my pal. His name's Oscar. Oscar says, Good morrow, how's tricks? I point to the squirt bottle I got filled with milk on my utility belt and my plunger. I says, "You tell me." "Holy smokes!" he says is that... "Yep," I cut him off, "it's the Titan." He asks if he can touch it and I say, "Sure, but then I gotta kill ya" and we both laugh and laugh. I'm a pretty funny guy when I wanna be--it's just that mostly I ain't in the mood after fixin' all these toilets. My prices are pretty competetive too. For a milk misting and plunging I charge $80 an hour and only make you drive me to your house, not both ways, as I prefer to jog home. Sometimes people'll spot me runnin' down the street an kinda look at me funny. I just give 'em a look as though to say, "Hey, if I wanted a turkey sandwich, I woulda asked for one, now go back and fix it!"


What else...oh, I get in a fight at a park last week. Some dope had to go and insult my wife and I and I just lost it. Now I'm generally a pretty easy going guy, but when someone starts questioning my wife's genus and species, I have been known to get pretty upset. You see, it all started when I married a squirrel...oh sure, go ahead, make your snide remarks, you can't hurt us..try having your house set on fire in the middle of the night...that'll build some resiliency to that sorta thing. Besides, she's a squirrel-human HYBRID. This is why I get so upset, see? Technically she's only half-squirrel, and believe me, brother, the rest is all woman. Except for her reproductive organs. And her teeth. But we're looking into adopting and dentures, respectively; you'd be amazed at some of the dental options available to hybird-Americans such as my wife, Nancy (although I call her Jim as a joke...what'd I tell ya, pretty funny guy, huh?).


Tomorrow is November 2nd, the busiest day of the year. For some reason, everyone wants their annual milk misting the first week in November. I says, you want a plunging too? It comes with the package but most people just say, no, just a milk misting for the upstars (or downstairs) bathroom. I says, okay, lady, you're the terrorist, not me! People tell me I should go into stand-up because of my personality and rapid fire style of humor. Observe: this one time I'm in line at the supermarket and it's one of those restocking days for me and the missus (Nancy stays at home because she used to get in trouble a lot with the cereal aisle, always eating the nut clusters out of the boxes and carrying on until the manager had to come and shoo her off the top shelf with a broom) and I've got all the greats: the milk, the eggs, the coffee, the pork pieces, the wood block (for Nancy's teeth). So there's this woman in line in front of me and she's wearing one of those big hats, you know, those big hats people wear? And she's got a ton of produce on the conveyor belt and I'm thinking, Oh boy, wunna those loonies, ya know? Wunna them people who wears big hats and eats a lot of produce. Lemme spice it up another level (that's my catchphrase...Emeril famously stole it from me during a pie eating contest...he steals lotsa things from me. For example. this sound familiar? Whammo! See what I mean? He's a catch-phrase thief.).

So I shoot the cashier a sly look, like we're in on a secret together, pick up one of this lady's oranges, wind up and throw it as hard as I can at her head. Well I'm a dead aim and played a little college ball, so I hit her right in the base of her skull and the hat flies off and she goes down hard. She starts screaming, saying how she can't feel her arms and the manager rushes out and the stock boy, stocky little fella, falls off his ladder while he's trying to put up some new boxes of Cream o' Wheat and minor chaos breaks out everywhere (except at the deli counter...that guy is one cool customer). So in the middle of all this, I shoot the cashier another sly look, although he ain't lookin' at me, turn to the manager, who by now IS lookin at me (pretty angry too), and say, "It's ok, I have sex with a half-squirrel, half-woman hybrid! My wife Nancy is half-squirrel!!!" and I smile one of my famous toothy grins (I sometimes wear Nancy's old fake teeth...makes me look book smart). Everyone admitted it was pretty funny, but they were just too concerned with trying to resuscitate the woman I hit with the orange. Yeah, I'm a real funny guy when I wanna be.

TO BE CONTINUED...

Delicious TV

Jaffy Simpson sits in his trailer on the outskirts of the Utah desert. From his grimy couch he can see Devil's Armchair and other rock formations.

Jaffy: Sure is nice out today.
he walks to the front door and takes a look around. Crosses arms.
Jaffy: Oh there's that damn bird again. Shoo! Shoo!
throws rock into the air.
Jaffy: Not this time I guess. (marks off a tic) So quiet out here.
walks back inside, turns suddenly on the door
Jaffy: Ah. You have to be fast if you're gonna catch someone sneaking around. I'm still training.
Jaffy: Sure wish that water meter guy would come back. He was pretty funny.
cut to shot of calendar: October 1994.
Jaffy: This calendar should be replaced. (calling out) Are any of you guys going into town this week? (under breath) Ya fucktards...heh.
Ambles across room opens cabinet door, takes out pan. Stares at pan for several minutes, replaces it in cabinet.
Jaffy: Heh...heh...always count on that for a laugh.
Jaffy scribbles down some notes and falls to his knees, clutching his heart.
Jaffy: Well, time for breakfast.
Jaffy opens up a sack of cane sugar and begins hungrily devouring it. Suddenly, a knock on the door. He freezes. His face and stubble are covered in cane sugar.
Jaffy: Hello?
Delivery Man: You, uh, Jaffy, uh, Simpson?
he gets up too fast, stumbles, falls, gets up, opens door
Jaffy: Yeah ya schmuck, are you, uh, blind? read the sign!
Delivery Man: I'm sorry sir. Sign here.
Jaffy (suspicious): What is this shit? I'm not signing anything. This some kinda scam?
Delivery Man: It's just a delivery sheet sir--you sign here, I give you your package.
Jaffy: My package? Who sent you here?
Delivery Man (points to badge): FedEx, sir.
Jaffy: I didn't think you delivered this far out--usually it's UPS.
Delivery Man: We're trying to expand our services sir.
Jaffy: Is it working?
Delivery Man: Well I'm here aren't I?
Jaffy (thunderous laugh, heaven moves): You're alright. Wanna come in and have some sugar water?
Delivery Man: I can't sir, I'm working.
Jaffy: Gimme that.
He signs the delivery sheet and hands it back.
Jaffy (curt) Here.
Delivery Man: I'm sorry sir. Maybe another time.
Jaffy: Sure, whatever.
Delivery Man hesitates. Moves out of sight for a moment. Returns leading a little baby calf on a string.
Delivery Man (handing JS the string): Here you go sir.
Jaffy: What the hell is this?
Delivery: It's a calf, sir.
Jaffy: From who?
Delivery Man: Uh, card says here, Jane Simpson.
Jaffy: That no good liberal farm whore. It's bad enough having her send me vegetables every other week...I can't take this...you take it back to her and you tell her, "How dare you!" Say that to her when you see her.
Delivery Man: I won't see her sir. I only work in the state. This was sent from Washington State.
Jaffy: Well I don't want it.
Delivery Man: That is up to you, sir. Enjoy your package.
Man exits.
Jaffy (to calf): Well you can't live in my house. I keep a clean ship. No animals allowed.
Calf questioningly looks at the layer of filth that covers every area of Jaffy's apartment.
Jaffy (in response): yeah but check out the comics--arranged by release date and by rank in the series. It's an average of the two. (comics are on an island of pristine arrangement amidst a sea of human waste)
Calf urinates on dust outside. Eats a crusty piece of tortilla from the floor.
Jaffy: Oh, gross! Well I'm going inside. I have things to take care of.
he closes door and walks back inside. The calf cries out.
Jaffy (head back in the sack of sugar): Scram!
Calf whinnies a little.
Jaffy crosses back over to door, props it open. Fine, you can watch me inside, but you can't come in.
Jaffy moves his small kitchen table over one foot, looks around room, moves it back in place.
Jaffy: Well that's done.
Deafening silence. A long beat as the calf and Jaffy stare around the place. Somewhere in Ohio, a mosquito bites Mrs. Jane Nickerson while she sits outside with a few friends talking about the addition to the library. She and her friends remark that it seems awfully early in the year for mosquitos to be out. She decides to put on a cardigan because "it's getting a little brisk."

Jaffy walks over to the calf and tries balancing a tea cup and saucer on the calf's head. It falls into the hardpan dirt below and cracks.

Jaffy: Aw, great...just great.
He storms back inside mumbling under his breath.
He looks out the back window and watches a small flint of light reflect off a truck a mile off in the distance.
Jaffy glances over his shoulder at the calf. The calf stomps around in a small circle and leans his head against the trailer.
Jaffy opens up a cabinet. He looks inside for a moment before tearing the cabinet door off the hinges.
Jaffy: Well that's one more thing I have to fix around here now. I should open up a handy-man shop...(louder, in calf's direction) because I'm so good at fixing things.
The calf is a cool customer. Unimpressed.
Jaffy grumbles and goes to work fixing the cabinet door. He tries hammering something into somewhere but it doesn't work. He tapes it to the cabinet several times but each time it falls. He eventually decides to just put it on his "to do" list.
Jaffy: Phew...well that's done.
He brushes his hands off and walks to the door. Squints into the sun.
Jaffy: Hot out here. Must be well over 90.
He walks back inside, gets a glass of water from the sink. Walks back outside, pours it on the calf who does not like it. It stomps its feet and whinnies.
Jaffy (jumps back): Jeez louise...just trying to help a guy out...calm down.
There is a pause. The calf shakes itself out a little, turns its back to Jaffy, begins walking away.
Jaffy: fine, go...yeah...stupid sister of mine is what she is. No good.
The calf walks 10 feet out and walks back in a big circle.
Jaffy tears open his sack of sugar and begins shoveling the crystals into his mouth.
He gets up abruptly and offers his hand to the calf which licks his hand clean.
Jaffy giggles and then coughs.
He offers the calf another handful, then another. He pours the sack of sugar out onto the floor near the doorway and the two go at it, shoving their mouths full of the sweetness. The two eat for what seems like hours. Finally they finish, their bellies full.
The calf urinates on the ground outside.
Jaffy: Ew...wanna come inside?
Jaffy picks up the string and leads the calf into his new home.
There is a knock at the door.
Delivery Man: Hello? Sir?
Jaffy stumbles to the door. Jaffy is probably diabetic due to his sugar-based diet.
Jaffy (blinking): Ma, telephone for you--wha--oh, excuse me...hello. What the hell do you want? (to calf) Probably here to bring me a wife now, huh. Next thing I know we'll be best friends, huh?
Delivery Man: No sir. It's against company policy.
Jaffy: So why did you knock on my door.
Delivery Man: I made a mistake sir.
Jaffy: A mistake?
Delivery Man: Yes sir. I delivered the package to the wrong address.
Jaffy; The wrong address? I'm the only one out here!
Delivery Man: Apparently so.
Jaffy: Well then who were you looking for?
Delivery Man: Number 12, sir.
Jaffy: There is no number 12. Probably just a typo or something. Why would my sister send a package to someone else?
Delivery Man: I don't know sir. Nonetheless, I'll need to reclaim the package until we get can it sorted out back at the office.
Jaffy: What? Well how long will that take?
Delivery Man: About 5 to 6 weeks.
Jaffy: 5 to 6 weeks?!?
Delivery Man: Yes sir. So I'll have to take the package back.
Jaffy (considers): No.
Delivery Man: No? Sir, it's company policy.
Jaffy: I don't care. You can't have the calf.
Delivery Man: Sir, I'm afraid I'm going to have to take it.
Jaffy: You come in here and I'll kill you. How's that?
Delivery Man: Sir, I don't want to call the police.
Jaffy: So don't. I'm warning you: you cross that line and I will kill you. You can't take my friend.
Delivery Man: So are you saying that you're willing to risk personal injury, criminal charges and jail time in order to keep your package?
Jaffy (unsteady, but holding his ground): Yes.
Delivery Man: Well in that case...Jaffy Simpson, consider yourself MELTED!
Jaffy: What the--
A camera crew and several producers appear in Jaffy's doorway clapping. They have balloons and such.
Producer 1: Great job, Jaffy, you were just great.
Camera man 1 enthusiastically gives a thumbs up. Drools a little.
Jaffy: What's going on here?
Producer 2: We're producing a new reality TV series called Melted where we take an embittered soul and MELT THEIR HEART! Jaffy Simpson CONSIDER YOURSELF MELTED!!!!
Producer 3: Great TV, Jaffy. Do you own a TV?
Jaffy (hamming it up): Sure, only it's a sink, not a TV. (into camera) Camera! CAMERA!
Camera man 1 moves back and flicks Jaffy's hand away.
Producer 4: Don't touch the lens.
Jaffy (jovial): So who put you up to this?
Producer 5: Your sister. She said you never write, never call, and live out here all by yourself in the desert.
Producer 6: When we heard this we knew you had to be on the show so we broke in here one night while you were sleeping and installed 36 hidden cameras!
Producer 7: You've been MELTED!! Yeah!!!
Delivery Man: And I'm just an actor! Convincing, no?
The producers high five and congratulate themselves.
Producer 8: Celebrity judge!
Al Roker shuffles into frame.
Al Roker: I thought it was great! I give it...a great!
All celebrate with noise and general fan fare.
Producer 9: Congratulations, Jaffy. You were fantastic.
Long pause.
Camera man 2: Okay, I'm out of tape. Jerry?
Camera man 1: Yep, me too. Just about.
Producers (in unison): Okay, well Jaffy thanks again, we'll send you a tape when its edited.
Jaffy (pointing to a broken microwave): Can I get a DVD instead? Woohoo! Camera! Camera!
Producers: Well we'll be going now. Great job buddy. Oh, almost forgot. We'll have to take the calf back now. (baby voice) It needs to get back to its mommy, doesn't it?
Jaffy's joy balloon deflates and is replaced by Jaffy's budding anger balloon.
Jaffy: What's this?
Producers: (baby voice) We'll need to take back the calfie whaffie.
Jaffy: Okay, first, don't patronize him. He's my friend. Second, no. You can't take him.
Producers: Jaffy, don't do this.
Jaffy: Okay, okay, how's this.
Jaffy slowly runs over to his cabinet, grabs his pan, slowly runs back over to the doorway and tries to strike Al Roker with the pan. His blow is easily deflected.
Producers: Jaffy! No!
Jaffy cannot hear them. He is in a blind rage. He swings and swings, hitting nothing, before he eventually tires himself out. Puffing, he stands before the producers crying.
Jaffy: You...can't...take...him.
Producers: Jaffy are you saying you're willing to murder Al Roker in a blind rage just to keep this calf?
Jaffy (unsteady, but holding his ground): Yes.
Producers: Alright, this sucks and we really hate to do this, but alright. Officers?
Two large police officers enter with their guns drawn.
Jaffy (to the calf): Go hide in the cabinet.
The officers approach Jaffy. Officer 1 puts his hand on Jaffy's shoulder. Jaffy grabs the officer's gun and tries to shoot himself in the face but it doens't work.
Jaffy: What the--
Producer 10 (emerging from thin air snickering): Jaffy Simpson...you've been COPPED!
Jaffy Simpson: Oh boy, not again!
Everyone bursts into laughter.
Jaffy: Who put you up to this?
All eyes on the calf.
The calf grins widely.
Jaffy: You're my best friend.
Producer 11 (eating a small pre-mature baby): Delicious.

Asimo

I have seen the future, and it's a creepy robot.

http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=1210345008392050115

Burger King vs. McDonald's

Mike, Mikey, Ted, and Charlie are sitting around a table at a Burger King.

Mike: Mikey, do you like being my friend?
Mikey: Yeah, lots. Ted, do you like being my friend?
Ted: Yeah, lots. Charlie, do you like being my friend?
Charlie: Uh, yeah, sure.

Mike, Mikey, Ted look at each other disturbed. After a moment's hesitation Mikey steps up the plate.

Mikey: Uh, Charlie, you know, we're all good friends here, and, ah, well, there's just a certain way we do things around here.

Charlie: Pass the ketchup, bro.

Charlie goes to reach for the ketchup but Mike grabs his hand.

Mike: I don't think you understand, "bro." You don't fuck with our shit and we don't fuck with yours.

Ted: We had a deal man.

Mikey: Stay outta this Ted.

Mike pulls a gun to Charlie's head.

Ted: Hey man, what the fuck are you doing?

Mike: Didn't ya hear Mikey? He said stay outta this.

Charlie: What the hell are you guys doing?

Ted: We'll ask the questions here tough guy.

Mike turns and blows Ted's head off.

Charlie: Holy shit! What's the matter with you?

Mikey glances over at the BK manager who is pushing the emergency button.

Mikey: Shit.

Mikey tries to grab the gun from Mike but ends up shooting himself in the face.

Mike: Oh no...oh nonononoono oh God no. Mikey! Mikey!!!! Alack!

Mike shoots himself in the face.

Charlie is stunned.

Suddenly Ronald McDonald and Grimmace bust in.

RM: We're too late.

Grimmace (into camera): Hi kids, Grimmace here. If you eat at Burger King, YOU AND THE PEOPLE YOU LOVE WILL DIE.

Ronald draws a yellow "M" with his fingers in the air.

Sketch #2

Dan Swanson, aging crooner, pushing 40s, thinning hair, thinning resources.

Velvet curtain opens: Ladies and Gentlemen, Dan Swanson.

(applause)

Dan enters huffing and puffing, sweating profusely.

Dan: Thank you thank you, thanks BE TO GOD!!! Hee-yah! (jump kicks).

Dan begins crying. Dan slaps himself and calls himself a pussy. He stops crying.

Dan: I just want to say that it's been a hard year. Let's see if you can spot this little number--it's a favorite of mine and I hope it's one of yours. My mother ruined my sex life. Hit it boys!

(a band starts up somewhere OS)

Dan: Sometimes you gotta go, where everybody knows your name/And they're always glad you came/you gotta go where everyone goes, the people are all the same, you gotta go where everybody knows your name." CHEERS ladies and gentlemen. Great, great, great. I once met Ted Danson at my ex-wife's wedding. I wanted to tell him I was a big fan, but I was too angry at him for STEALING MY WOMAN!

(applause)

Dan: Thank you, thank you.

Dan almost vomits. Chokes it back. Smiles.

Dan: Ladies and gentlemen, now I'd like to bring out a good friend of mine, a man who's been with me through thick and thin, a man without whom I'd probably be dead! (applause) My stagehand Jason!

(a scraggly looking urchin stumbles on stage, blinking at the lights...his mind is not with us)

Dan hugs Jason tightly. It's awkward. If Jason wasn't so hopped up on whatever it is he ingested he would be able to appreciate the frightening intensity of Dan's hug too.

Dan: Jason, tell the folks how we met.

Jason: I'ma turkey sammich. Gonna fuk shit up ifah dun git my outta MY WAY!!!

Jason tries fighting off the unseen demons and punches Dan in the face.

Dan: Hot damn that smarts!

(applause)

Jason: Gon sticka knife yo ass.

Jason shits himself and begins humming loudly. Like a refrigerator!

Dan: Ladies and gents, my lifelong pal Jason! Give em a round of applause!

(no applause)

Jason shits himself again and hums ever louder.

(roaring applause)

Dan pisses himself.**

(over the applause police sirens can be heard in the background--Dan freezes)

Dan: Guess they found out about daddy's little secret!

(the police sirens pass)

Dan: Phew, false alarm! Alright, for my next act, I'm going to dial my ex-wife and her lover Ted Danson. Jason, my phone!

Jason ambles off stage. Dan is forced to run back and get his phone for his own damn self.
Off stage we hear Dan ask Jason if he's feeling alright and that he should have some water.
Dan reappears on stage.

Dan (on phone): Hello? Who's this? Julia? Oh my...are you Nancy's daughter? Sweety, where is Nancy? Not home? Is Ted Danson there? He is? Could you be a lil' pumpkin and put him on the phone? Muchas gracias you little bean.

Dan mimes furiously eating a steak and really hams it up. Whatta ham! (applause)

Dan: Hey, Ted? It's Dan. Nonono, don't hang up, please. I just wanted to say that i'm really happy for you and Nancy. Yeah, you're welcome--it took a lot of courage for me to admit that I had a problem. And that problem is YOU. Becker was shit!

Dan hangs up. Applause.

Suddenly a SWAT team lead by Jason busts in, slaying Dan in a hail of gunfire.
Mayhem ensues. Mayhem stops. Order is restored. Jason steps up to the mic.

Jason: And there you have it folks! Goodnight!

SWAT Gunman: Nice work, Jason.

Jason: Christ, whatta mess.

Curtain falls.




**At this point in the writing I began laughing like a maniac to myself. What foul one-upsmanship.

Even Spies Take the Bus

It is the potently ubiquitous yet rarely enforced rule, unique to this time period, but with its roots in Village Idiots: it is the “no cell phone” rule when traveling in public spaces.

Let’s paint a familiar scenario: you’re sitting on a bus returning to school and the person in the seat behind you is chatting away to her BFF*, oblivious to the fact that she is causing great pain to her fellow travelers. She is most likely wearing Uggs, a short skirt, and a belly shirt that exposes an over-hanging gut, like some fleshy Hanging Garden of Babylon. Her weapon is a bedazzled Sidekick (shout out to T-mobile, y’all!). As she chatters away, the conversation on your end might sound something like this:

“Uh-huh…well—uh-huh…(squeal)…like…Alcopulco…a turkey sandwich…she’s so annoying, she’s just so skinny…I just wish my life could be like Laguna Beach…”

And this goes on for some time and the whole while you and your fellow passengers are left sitting there hoping for a swift and painless death to relieve you all from this auditory torment. As you near your final destination, someone else has gone and started up a new phone chat and, astonishingly, it is even more (ob)noxious than all the ones that came before it (and there were many), and in a last ditch effort to dull the pain, you make good with God, break the emergency window, and leap out of the moving vehicle (to make matters worse you land in the back of a Nut Company’s truck, this one carrying cashews, and you HATE cashews both for their shape and comparatively mushy texture. "Why couldn't it have been almonds?!" you demand of your God, but there is no answer. Typical.).

Now mind you, not all public phone chats are not violently snotty; some are just painfully boring. An excerpt: “Oh, I dunno—sort of—sort of overcast…I was going to bring a sweatshirt—no the grey one—but it had a ketchup stain on it…yeah I had a hamburger last night…it was okay…I think maybe later I’ll buy some new soap.” Which conversation is worse? Hard to say.

Public transportation authorities have tried to solve the problem by placing signs and making announcements on board, but nothing seems to work. Picking up on the odor of altruism, I’ve sniffed out the trail and followed it until I found a solution for this thorn in the heel of the human condition. Thus far we’ve established that people are addicted to talking on their cell phones in public, and it’s clear that they’re going to do this regardless of “the rules” or the personal comfort of the people around them. This much we know. So if we can’t stop people from having obnoxious or boring conversations in public, how can we at least dull the pain for those who have to hear it? Easy, by enforcing a new rule, nay, a law, this one punishable by death, that says that all conversations held in public need to sound like espionage novels. This way the people around the cell phone users are entertained and in the best cases, are left begging for more. It’s free entertainment on the cell phone user’s dollar.

Under this new set of rules, a conversation like the ones above would be translated into something like this: “Blackbird…he’s been neutralized. The syndicate found the bug we planted and while we were in the convoy they picked him off from a helicopter which I promptly began firing rockets at until it exploded. Then my car exploded and then this woman out walking her baby exploded because she was also a spy and her baby was actually a bomb. When I came to I was in a bunker near the Earth’s core where I was tortured—don’t worry, I said nothing of the map. They don’t know we have it. I managed to melt the handcuffs with my shoe laser before killing everyone in the bunker—of course I didn’t kill the scientists…they’re the only ones who can stop this now and if anyone---” (lights on, PA system crackles on) “Ladies and gentlemen, Boston South Station, please watch your step on your way out.” Collective groan.

On the way out, everyone will pat the cell phone user on the back and congratulate them on their continued success in the fight against the syndicate and possibly even hoist the cell phone user on their shoulders amidst great cheering and song. However, tragedy strikes shortly after the celebration begins as the cell phone user is picked off by an agent of the syndicate proving once more that not everyone who follows this new rule is following it because they are courteous, law-abiding citizens; sometimes spies just need to take the bus. If this new plan succeeds, I plan on splitting the proceeds with a charity devoted to the children of spies who have been assassinated on public transport. What proceeds, you say? What proceeds indeed!


*(means “best friend forever”…see they call it BFF because it’s the initials of the three words which they represent, it saves time, like text messaging someone instead of calling them and it’s all very clever)