Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To

Lawn Boy

Treyvon, what the fuck?

“Oh, hey. Can I jam for you, too?”

Oh, buddy.

“See, it’s summer.”

Right.

“And when it’s summer, I travel the country with my pals jamming for people.”

This year’s weird.

“It didn’t start well for me, and it’s gone downhill ever since.”

You got stuck in the rafters of MSG on New Year’s Eve.

“Yeah. My therapist says I might have gotten a touch of the PTSD from that.”

A touch?

“Full PTSD is for, like, soldiers. I don’t wanna be disrespectful.”

You’re very thoughtful. Can we get back to the fact that you’re accosting strangers in the park with your improvisatory boingy-type music?

“See, it’s summer. And when–”

Ah, dammit. You’ve lost your mind, too. Fuckin’ ronus.

CELL PHONE NOISE

“I should take this. It might be the subconscious cue to wake up from this nightmare.”

Sure.

“Hey, it’s Trey.”

“WHO THIS, MAN? AH’M CALLIN’ F’R HAIRY GARCIA! PUT HIM ON TH’ LINE OR FACE SO MUCH KARATE YOU’LL END UP A LUMPY, BUMPY STUMP!”

“Elvis?”

“AN’ THE BANANA MAN!”

“Uh-huh.”

“DAMMIT, BOY: FETCH UP HAIRY GARCIA! WE GOT IMPORTANT MURDER HEIST-RELATED BIZNESS T’ DISCUSS!”

“Right, okay. Couple questions.”

“AH WILL PERMIT THIS, AS AH AM IN A FINE MOOD. ‘BOUT TEN MINUTES AGO, THE BANANA MAN KICKED JOE ESPOSITO IN TH’ NUTS. THAT BROUGHT JOY TO TH’ JUNGLE ROOM.”

“You’re in the Jungle Room?”

“IN MAH HEART, AH AM ALWAYS IN TH’ JUNGLE ROOM.”

“Great. I have three questions.”

“PRESENT THEM TO ME ALL AT ONCE, SO THAT AH MAY DECIDE WHICH TO IGNORE.”

“Okay: Who the heck is ‘Hairy Garcia?’; What the hell is a ‘Murder Heist?’; and How the fuck are you calling me?

“HAIRY GARCIA IS MAH FRIEND, WITH WHOM AH HAVE SHARED ADVENTURES AND SEAFOOD-INFUSED PASTA DISHES. THASS A MAN WHO DEMANDS SHRIMP IN HIS SCAMPI!”

“I’m already lost.”

“HE’S GOT A BEARD, AN’ HE’S IN CHARGE O’ TH’ GRATEFUL DEADS, AN’ AH ALSO THINK THERE’S TWO OF HIM AN’ ONE’S DEAD.”

“Yeah, I get it.”

“YOU ARE A MAN O’ INTELLECT!”

“Thanks. And what is a Murder Heist?”

“FUN ‘TIL IT AIN’T!”

“That doesn’t help.”

“IT’S SOMETHIN’ T’ DO, MAN! CAN’T SPEND ALL DAY WATCHIN’ JOE ESPOSITO GET NUT-SHOTTED BAH A MONKEY! AH C’N SPEND ALL MORNIN’ LIKE THAT, BUT NOT ALL DAY. GOTTA MIX IT UP. LAST WEEK, AH RECORDED ‘NOTHER CHRISTMAS ALBUM. THIS WEEK, AH’M MURDER HEISTIN’.”

“That also doesn’t help.”

“WHERE ARE MAH MANNERS? WOULD YOU LIKE DR. NICK TO ATTEND T’YOU?”

“No. What? No.”

“Y’LOOK SICK, MAN. YOU PALER TH’N A BOILED HOG.”

“I’m fine.”

“YOU MAY BE FINE, BUT DR. NICK’LL SET YOU RIGHT. YOU SHOULD SEE HOW HE’S TENDIN’ T’ JOE ESPOSITO’S CASHEWS! TH’ MAN’S A HEALER!”

“Pass.”

“BOY, DON’T BE ACTIN’ TOUGH IN FRONT O’ TH’ KING. TH’ DOC GONNA GIVE YOU VARIOUS CURATIVES, AN’ THEN YOU AN’ ME AN’ THE BANANA MAN GONNA GET HUMPIN’ ON THIS MURDER HEIST.”

“I still don’t know what a Murder–”

“AH’M GONNA SEND SONNY OR RED T’ FETCH YOU UP! AH DUNNO WHICH ONE YET. IT’LL BE ONE O’ THEM GOOBERS.”

“–Heist is, and so–”

DIAL TONE NOISE EVEN THOUGH PHONES NO LONGER DO THAT

“Excuse me?”

Treyvon?

“Can I opt out?”

You don’t wanna be a part of this?

“I don’t wanna be a part of any of this.”

No one does! Except Billy, I guess. And Elvis. And the intertrimensional sex pirates that ate Iron Maiden.

“The what now?”

You’ll meet them.

“I don’t want to.”

They’re fun.

2 Comments

  1. WeirsBeard

    Oh Lord, giggling hysterically at 5 in the morning while reading this is NOT helping my family life! Never Stop.

  2. Luther Von Baconson

    Got josh beat with the Muslin Pant

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