Cheryl’s family demanded Proof of Life from the kidnappers, and three hours later, this picture was delivered.
Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To
Tag: benjy eisen (Page 5 of 7)
“Billy, I got an idea.”
“Is it that I should throw you into the propeller?”
“No.”
“I’m gonna.”
“Please don’t.”
“I will, though.”
“You wanna hear my idea?”
“Yeah, why not?”
“After Chicago, we should keep the band together and do more shows. A tour.”
“That’s your idea?”
“Yeah.”
“You haven’t told anyone but me, right?”
“You’re the first.”
“Well, dummy up. No good this getting out.”
…
“I feel as though you’re mocking me.”
“I am. Your idea was to ‘continue making money.'”
“I guess.”
“That’s capitalism. Your idea was capitalism. Of course we’re doing more shows.”
“Oh, okay. It’s just that you guys promised there wouldn’t be any more shows.”
“Show biz promise.”
“Is that different than a real promise?”
“Substantially, yes.”
…
“I had another idea, Bill: you guys need a manager, right?”
“We do. You wanna do it?”
“I absolutely do, Billy.”
“I think it’s a great idea. What do you think, Mr. Propeller? You do? You what?”
“Billy, please doN’T THROW ME INTO THE–”
DSHWAKA DSHWAKA DSHWAKA SPLURT
“Hey, Billy. Whatcha doing?”
No. I say that.
“Heh heh.”
Good day, buddy?
“Having fun. Tired. Got religion.”
What? That sounds bad.
“Nah, nah: good stuff all around. Ever hear about the Living Church?”
Not with capital letters, no.
“Back in the old days, when they would consecrate a new cathedral, penitents would be bricked up within the very walls. Little cells with tiny openings you could pass a tray of food in, a bucket of shit out. Never came out. In excelsis deo and all that shit.”
…
Is Benjy in that cairn?
“Please get me out of here.”
“SHUT UP AND KNOW CHRIST’S LOVE!”
“Billy, I’m Jewish.”
“So was He! Know His love!”
INT. FRONT STREET
GARCIA AND BOBBY SIT AT A TABLE.
“Hops are in there, Jer.”
“If you say so. I haven’t had a beer in years, man.”
“Not much of a beer guy, either.
“Water, I suppose.”
“Yeah.”
PHIL ENTERS.
“Hey, man, you’ll know–”
“About the hitchhiker that vanished? I don’t know anything about that.”
“–what’s in beer.”
“Oh, beer? Four ingredients: water, brown, bubbles, alcohol.”
“No hops?”
“Hops is German for bubbles.”
“Okay.”
“Are you stealing hitchhikers’ organs again?”
“Never mind that: I have huge news.”
CUT TO:
SUPER: “THE DEAD INHERIT A NEWSPAPER”
(Stock music plays.)
Anyway, all joshing aside: this is true. Back in the 70’s or 80’s, depending on which keyboardist shows up a few paragraphs from now, the Grateful Dead inherited a local paper, The Marin County Muckraker. For almost forty years, the daily kept the powerful in fear, the the citizenry informed, and local boobie models employed. (Much like the English papers, the Muckraker featured topless women on page 3. Also pages 5-12 on most days, with a pull-out on Thursdays. Sundays had full-color boobies.)
Phil’s uncle, William Randolph Lesh, had left the paper to his favorite nephew, who refused it, so it went to Phil.
Garcia was issued the largest fedora anyone’s ever seen: it blotted out the sky, and the press pass stuck in the brim was the size of Oklahoma. A pad was procured, along with several pencils; he also got a roll of dimes, so he could call the Copy Desk on a pay phone if there was breaking news.
“Get out there, Scoop,” Phil cheered and Garcia beamed at the name and got in his car and drove home, stopping only to trade the hat and dimes for Persian and start several small fires. (To Garcia’s credit, one of the fires got large enough to warrant a story in the paper, so in that sense, he did fill up a few inches.)
Mickey tried to help, as always. What if, he asked, someone broke into the Mt. Tamalpais Seminary and started whipping baby priests with a belt? Phil answered that it would certainly be a story, and then he realized what was happening and tried to restrain Mickey, but he had already removed his belt and begun running towards the seminary grounds.
Keith stumbled into the printing press.
“Fine! I’ll do it myself!” Phil muttered, and walked out into the street, where he realized he didn’t know what a reporter did. All the reporters he had met were the kind of reporters that talked to rock stars, which makes them not reporters at all, really.
But, Phil was full of water, brown, bubbles, and alcohol and couldn’t find his car, so he went back inside and interviewed Bobby for a while and took a nap. When he woke up, he wrote an Op-Ed about how supermarket carts should have engines, and then completely lost interest in owning a newspaper.
“Hey, Billy.”
“We’re speaking?”
“Yeah, it’s the 70’s.”
“Oh, okay.”
“You want to own a newspaper?”
“Yeah, why not.”
Phil tossed Billy the keys and then went off in search of another nap.
Billy walked over to the newspaper office and looked up with enthusiasm. Then, he shoved Benjy down the basement steps and lit the place on fire.
“WHY? I WASN’T EVEN IN THIS!”
“We all have our roles to play, Benj. Don’t come back as Freddy Krueger.”
“This sucks.
“Ah, boo-freaking-hoo.”
Billy enjoyed being on the boat, and he drove it like he had sex: throttle all the way down and salty liquid spraying in everyone’s face.
It was humid, and Billy drove fast, so the air was solid and snapped and growled and would not give way until Billy punched the wind in its dick; it was smooth sailing after that.
The boat was named the SS Oceanfucker and Billy was her captain.
From astern, the sound of an inappropriately dressed Jew vomiting can be heard.
“Billy, I threw up on my boots and giant headphones!”
“Well, who told you to wear that shit on a boat, man?”
“These are my clothes!”
“Whatever. Don’t puke in the chum. Wait, actually: puke right in the chum. Fish love puke.”
“Yeah, that’s the other thing, chief.”
“Don’t call me chief.”
“Why do we have chum? We’re going diving. We don’t even have any fishing poles.”
…
“Benjy, this is not easy to say, but–”
“Goddammit, you’re gonna feed me to sharks.”
“–we’re gonna feed you to sharks.”
“Oh, come on!”
“Hey, man: you’re the one with the Lazarus act. If you stopped coming back from the dead, I’m stop killing you. I’m not a monster.”
…
“So, if you ever kill me and I remain dead, you will not kill me again. Is that what you’re saying?”
“Apparently.”
“Fine. I’m taking a couple of those sharks with me.”
“Oh, no: we brought handcuffs.”
“Even if the case seems too small, ya gotta check it: he’s a lot more flexible than you would think.”
“Did you put him in one of these things?”
“Nah, I didn’t. He gets in there himself.”
“What?”
“He got used to it after a while, and now it’s his safe place.”
“If you say so.”
…
“Benjy! Come out of there! I wanna chase you around with the stun gun!”
And when they got home that night…
“Hey, Benj: catch!”
“What is that? A Hermes scarf?”
SQUIZZLESHMAZZLEFLAZAM!
…
“It was the Time Sheath. He threw a working time machine at me. Goddammit, Billy. Where am I?”
The smell of sushi and bowing and Shintoism filled the air.
“Japan?”
“EXTRA-RU! EXTRA-RU! Get your paper-san for whatever the equivalent of a nickel is!”
“I’ll take one!”
The paper was called The Hiroshima Times-Picayune and a single plane flew overhead and Benjy knew where he was, and that he and Billy would need to have a serious talk when they saw each other again.
- 18 Supernatural GIFs that Sum Up How You Feel About Peter Shapiro.
- 21 Times Black Twitter Was Thirsty For Keith.
- Which Grateful Dead’s Police Record Are You? Take This Quiz!
- 16 Times Phil Was Living His Best Life.
- This Instagram From Mickey Is Better Than Getting Blown By The Pope (Not The New, Cool Pope Who Seems Straight; Talking About The Scary Gay One That Quit.)
- 12 Times Garcia Was Epic.
- 10 Times Bobby Was Epic.
- 14 Times Epic Epic Epic.
- EEEEEEEEEPPPPPPPPPPPIIIIIIIIIICCCCCCCC.
- 24 Times Benjy Won The Internet.
- What Do They Look Like Now: TC Edition!
“You wired it right, Dad?”
“Dammit, Professional: I’ve been doing pyro for forty years. I know what I’m doing.”
“Can you count to ten on your fingers?”
“You know that was a fishing accident.”
“What were you fishing with, Dad?”
“Dynamite is just efficient. It just is, man.”
“Can we get back to it?”
“Office is wired with C4.”
“What about civilians? We can’t have any collateral damage here.”
“What’d I teach you about triggers?”
“Two step.”
“Right: the boom only booms if it smells Drakkar Noir and someone takes a selfie.”
“Damn, that’s good.”
“What do you think all these stories about the old days are all about? Killing the least amount of people is always gonna take brains. Computers and HD whatnot are fine, but a good welder? Guy with a stack of hundreds to give out to fire marshals? Always gonna be a place for that.”
“Hey! Precarious Lee! The legendary! My man!”
“Ah, hey, Benj.”
“Hey, man, we haven’t met: I’m Benj–”
“We’ve met six times.”
“Okay, then. Gotta make some calls. Nice running into you boys. Catch you on the flippy-floppy.”
“Sure.”
“Okay.”
…
“How long you think–”
KABOOM
…
“Almost instantly.”
“Yeah. We should not be here.”
“Not at all, no. We should run.”
“You go that way. Love you, Dad.”
“I enjoy our openness, but we need to concentrate on fleeing right now, son.”
“Good advice as always, Dad.”
“Watchtower, I have the shot.”
“Copy that, Archangel. Hold.”
“Holding.”
“What’s he doing?”
“Being himself as hard as he can.”
“Copy. Hold.”
…
“Archangel, confirm: is the target wearing boots in July?”
“That is an affirmative.”
“Copy. Hold.”
…
“Watchtower, an update: target taking selfies.”
“Copy, Archangel. Stick? Over.”
“Negative. No stick. Over.”
“Target is on the move. Can I shoot him or not, Jill?”
“What did I say about names, Peter?”
“Well, just make up your mind! Walton killed him yesterday; I don’t see why we can’t.”
“Hold, Archangel.”
“Copy, Watchtower.”
…
“Abort. Abort.”
“Seriously? C’mon, lemme shoot him.”
“Oh, that’s what I meant: abort Benjy.”
“Finally some decision-making in this organization.”
SHWOKKATHOOM
“Tell Chimenti to bring his van.”
“Idling out back.”
“Check his wallet for cash.”
“Duh.”
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