Thoughts On The Dead

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

Tag: bob weir (Page 55 of 198)

Josh Meyer’s Big Break

March 7, 2017 / / 8 Comments

“Oh, shit.”

…

“Oh, fuck.”

…

“Oh, shit.”

John, why is Bobby running around the room cursing?

“He can’t find Elvis.”

OMG.

“Right?”

Elvis needs supervision at all times. He was alone literally once in his entire adult life and he ended up at the White House.

“Is that how that happened?”

Yeah. He ran away from home and flew around the country for a while by himself, and then decided to meet the president. He had his guys meet him in Washington.

“That’s amazing.”

It is. Why aren’t you helping Bobby find the King?

…

“You’re kidding me.”

What?

“NOW you want me in the storyline.”

Desperate times, etc.

“No.”

Please?

“Kiss my ass.”

Okay.

CELL PHONE NOISE

“You have, like, one trick.”

But it’s a good trick. Answer the phone.

“Asshole.”

…

“Alpha Phi gala, John Mayer speaking.”

“John, have you seen Elvis?”

“Benjy?”

“Yeah.”

“Where are you?”

“Still in Cuba. Did you know the Spanish word for ‘marijuana’ is also marijuana? That’s called a cognate.”

“No, it’s a loanword.”

“Let’s not argue about the parts of speech. You haven’t seen him?”

“No. He was at the bar with ’89 Garcia, and now he’s not.”

“Is ’89 Garcia missing, too?”

“No, he’s onstage jamming with Elvis.”

“You said Elvis was missing!”

“The other Elvis.”

“Okay. John, this isn’t good. Elvis can’t be left alone. He’s a people person.”

“I don’t care. Someone I won’t name who’s a lonely weirdo didn’t want me in the storyline.”

“Be a team player, bro. Help out, okay?”

“Ugh.”

“Have you been to Cuba? It’s fuckin’ awesome. You know what they call Cuban sandwiches down here?”

“Sandwiches?”

“Yeah, sandwiches. No modifier.”

“Makes sense.”

CALL WAITING NOISE

“Benjy, I’ll call you back.”

“Find Elvis!”

“No!”

…

“John Mayer, Sorority girl slayer.”

“What’s that now?”

“Nothing! Sorry, Bob. Just a joke.”

“Not a great one.”

“Where are you? I hear music. You’re not onstage. Wait. Where did Phil go?”

“Yeah, we ducked out for a sec. Can you find Elvis and also drive my wife–”

“Natasha Monster.”

“–home? Great. Good talk, Josh.”

DIAL TONE NOISE EVEN THOUGH PHONES DO NOT DO THAT ANY MORE

“Oh, come ON!”

Hey, look: you’re in the storyline.

“I hate this universe.”

What if I told you that Hillary Clinton was president in it?

“Is she?”

Nah.

“Fucker. Selfie!”

What?

“Selfie.”

Ah. Just go find Elvis.

“I hate you.”

Understood. Hey, wait. Where’s Putin?

“Dude, he’s shitfaced and heckling ’89 Garcia and Wrong Elvis.”

What?

“You suck, Jerry Grateful!”

Jesus. Is that Medvedev? Where’d he come from?

“Is my Charlie Hodge. Brings Putin scarves and water and dead journalists. Play Freebird!”

Of course you’re that guy. John?

“Oh, what?”

I need you to do the following things: number one, get Vladimir Putin out of Bobby’s daughter’s charity function; two, find Elvis Presley; three, steal all the time machines back from ’85 Phil. You are the storyline now, pal. Main character. All your show.

“I’m not wearing the right clothes.”

You’re never wearing the right clothes. Just do this. Be the hero, John Mayer. You’re the Garcia now.”

“Hey! I’m in the room, y’know!”

“Sorry, ’89 Garcia! John? Buddy? Can you do this one for me?”

“Again: ugh. And how am I going to help? You’ve never let me have the Time Sheath.”

Gotcha covered.

CELL PHONE NOISE

“You’re the man.”

I am.

…

“John Mayer, hero of the storyline.”

“Dynamic duo back in action, Hot Dog Dick!”

“FUCK!”

“Kim Jong Un got Time Hat. Find hillbilly in cape. Save world.””

“Fuck.”

“Take best friend on adventure through history.”

“Fuck.”

“Father invent history.”

…

…

…

“Fuck.”

I’ll Meet Just About Everybody At The Jubilee

March 6, 2017 / / 1 Comment

“Josh, you see this down here?”

“What?”

…

“Ah, you got me. I hate that game.”

arm punch

“These look like upstanding young men.”

“Both of them just offered to sell me coke.”

“I retract my assessment.”

“Bobby, have you seen Elvis?”

“He’s right there at that table.”

“Where?”

“That’s the wrong Elvis, Bobby.”

“Is it? I can’t see very well in this tux.”

“How many Demerol did Elvis give you?”

“Just one.”

“How many other pills?’

“Many. Have we lost Elvis?”

“I didn’t! I’m not in the storyline.”

“You got a lotta lines for a guy who’s not in the storyline.”

“We need to concentrate, Bob. Where’s ’89 Garcia?’

“I think I saw him out on the patio.”

“He doesn’t look happy, Bob.”

“Nope. Hold on. Jer?”

…

“Jer?”

…

“Big guy?

…

“Yeah, he’s asleep.”

“That’s unnerving.”

“You get used to it. Not quickly, but you get used to it.”

“Sure.”

“But, uh, let’s go find that hillbilly lunatic. I don’t want anything screwing up my daughter’s sorority gala.”

“Is very classy affair, Bobby Grateful.”

“Shit.”

“You’re not supposed to be here.”

“Putin daughter in sorority vith Bobby Grateful daughter.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Da. They besties. Gossip, giggle, vhatnot.”

“Get the hell out of here, you commie son of a bitch.”

“Putin in party mode. Get freak on.”

“Do not get your freak on.”

“Who’s holding?”

“No one’s holding, asshole. Get out.”

“Want to powder snoot.”

“If I get you some coke, will you go?”

“Da.”

…

“Josh, ask one of the randbros for coke.”

“Should I get some for us?”

“Well, obviously.”

“Gotcha.”

“Wait. Hey, Putin. Wasn’t 2015 Phil with you?”

“Phil Grateful right there.”

“Bobby, this is a very classy affair. Very nice.”

“Hey, Phil. Could you not bring foreign dictators to my family events any more, please?”

“I can’t promise that.”

“Who could?”

“Weir, tell your wife–”

“Natasha Monster.”

“–congratulations or whatever you say.”

“You bet. Phil, are you drinking?”

“Yeah, but it’s cool. I had Putin stop in 1972 and I borrowed my old liver.”

“Ah.”

…

“Seriously: has anyone seen Elvis?”

Weir Partying

March 6, 2017 / / 1 Comment

“It’s just not fair, Bob.”

“Josh, everybody doesn’t get to be in every storyline. When Garcia started a solo band, I wasn’t in it. Didn’t hurt my feelings.”

“No?”

“It hurt a little.”

“Okay, so you see where I’m coming from.”

“Connecticut.”

“I mean: you understand my position.”

“Seated.”

“Can’t you talk to Elvis? I wanna fight Communism, or time travel, or drunken Phil from 30 years ago. Whichever.”

“Yeah, this storyline has a whole lotta ‘whichever’ in it.”

“Well, just put in a word with him. Where is Elvis?”

“I saw him at the bar.”

“Is he drinking? He shouldn’t be mixing whatever he’s on with alcohol.”

“DON’T NOBODY TELL A SOUTHERN MAN WHAT T’ DO ‘LESS THEY BRING TH’ NATIONAL GUARD”

“Calm down, Elvis.”

“TELL YER SON HE’S ABOUT T’ GET A TON O’ KARATE SHOVED UP HIS ASS, HAIRY GARCIA.”

“Please don’t unleash your karate on Josh, King.”

“AH HAVE MADE MAH FEELIN’S ‘BOUT THAT BOY CRYSTAL CLEAR.”

“I know, yeah, sure. But, uh, lemme tell you: everybody feels that way at first. He grows on you.”

“SO DO CARBUNCLES!”

“True.”

“Okay, don’t call me a carbuncle, man.”

“YOU WILL ADDRESS TH’ KING WHEN ADDRESSED BY TH’ KING, AN’ TH’ KING AIN’T NEVER GOIN’ T’ ADDRESS YOU, CARBUNCLE!”

“Goddammit, Bob. I have, like, five Grammys.”

“Nobody cares about the Grammys, Josh.”

“LISTEN T’ YER ELDERS, CARBUNCLE!”

“Is that nickname gonna stick?”

“The answer to that will be revealed in the fullness of time, I suppose.”

“WHICH ONE YOU LITTLE LADIES WANTS A DEMEROL?”

“Elvis?”

“UH-HUH?”

“Not the one in the red dress.”

“IZZAT YER LISA-MARIE?”

“Yup.”

“AH WILL NOT GRANT HER MAH PILLS. HOW ‘BOUT YOU?”

“Y’know what? I could be talked into my shoulder hurting.”

“HOT DAMN, HAIRY GARCIA! NOW ISS A PARTY!”

“I’ll take one, too, man.”

“AW RIGHT, MAN! DEMEROLS F’R EV’RYBODY ‘CEPT CARBUNCLE!”

“Bobby?”

“Josh?”

“Is that Jerry at the bar?”

“Good eye.”

“Uh-huh. Bobby?”

“Yeah?”

“Should the dead guy be sitting at the bar in full view of the room?”

“Oh, no. Absolutely not.”

“So, why is he?”

“Cuz that’s Garcia from ’89. He’s not dead yet. 2017 Garcia? Yeah, dead as disco. That guy should not be anywhere near the bar.”

“Why is Jerry from ’89 sitting at the bar?”

“Well, we weren’t gonna leave him in the car.”

“IT AIN’T A CAR! ISS A STUTZ!”

“In the Stutz.”

“Maybe I don’t want to be in this storyline.”

“NOBODY INVITED YA, CARBUNCLE!”

“Okay, I’m gonna go bang sorority chicks in the bathroom.”

“AVOID TH’ STALL ON TH’ LEFT. THAT POPEYE’S WENT RIGHT THROUGH ME.”

“Goddammit.”

The Dead, Red Wedding

March 5, 2017 / / 2 Comments

What is this?

“Mawwaige.”

Princess Bride reference. Nice, Phil.

“I’m with it.”

You’re very hip. Why are you allowed to marry people?

“Anyone in California is legally allowed to marry anyone to anything.”

So progressive. Weren’t you and Putin on the way to steal back all the time machines from ’85 you?

“We still are. Stopped for a minute.”

Lada break down?

“Lada broke down. Thing’s made out of popsicle sticks and promises.”

How’s ’69 Garcia?

“Really, really, really enjoying 21st century weed and pornography.”

Both of those things have come a long way in 50 years.

“Yeah, he’s thrilled. Although, he nearly shot the kid at Starbucks when he found out how much coffee costs now.”

’69 Garcia was packing?

“No, of course not. Jerry, along with the rest of the Dead, was a pacifist who didn’t believe in weapons of violence.”

…

Hahahahaha.

“Hahahaha.”

Oh, we have a good time. Wait: where’s Putin?

“Right over there. He loves weddings. Even managed to find a date.”

“Is so romantic. Putin love veddings.”

Is that Steven Seagal?

“Da. Is my bro.”

What the hell is on his head?

“Vig.”

A what?

“Vig.”

“Vig?”

…

“Nyet make fun of glorious Russian accent.”

Stupid accent.

“Is best accent. Ladies love.”

If the ladies love it, then why is Steven Seagal your date to a wedding?

“Is vingman. Going to meet tight American foxes. Butt play on bocce court.”

“You stay the hell away from those bocce courts, mister!”

“Nyet tell Putin vhat to do, Phil Grateful. Putin make love to voman butt vherever he please.”

“This deal is getting worse and worse all the time.”

SOMEWHEN ELSE

“WELL, YER BASS PLAYER AIN’T AT TH’ WATER PARK, HAIRY GARCIA.”

“Elvis, I gotta admit something to you. I, uh, didn’t think that he was.”

“YOU JUS’ WANTED T’ GO T’ TH’ WATER PARK! YOU SLY DOG, YOU.”

“In my defense, we had a lot of fun.”

“IT WUZ A GOOD THING AH BROUGHT MAH BATHING-JUMPSUIT.”

“Yup. You looked good, too.”

“AH WUZ TH’ ONLY ONE IN TH’ PARK WITH A CAPE.”

“Well, you’re generally the only one in any building with a cape.”

“NAH, MAN. AH HANG OUT WITH A LOTTA MAGICIANS.”

“Ah. So, what’s the plan?”

“SENSEI BENJY HAS CALLED ME WITH AN UPDATE. POOTER AN’ TH’ OLD FELLA HE HANGIN’ OUT WITH GOT THEMSELVES SOME SORTA SECRET WEAPON. SOMETHIN’ CALLED A ‘JERRY.’ DUNNO ANY MORE THAN THAT.”

“Did the call get interrupted?”

“AH STOPPED PAYIN’ ATTENTION ONCE TH’ CONVERSATION WAS NO LONGER ‘BOUT ME.”

“Sure. A ‘Jerry,’ huh? I know where to get one of those. When, I mean.”

“LEAD ON, HAIRY GARCIA. WHICH WAY SHALL AH POINT MAH LUXURIOUS AUTOMOBILE?”

“Take the exit for 1989.”

“WANNA GET POPEYE’S?”

“Yes, I do.”

HONK HONK

“Is there a car in the dressing room?”

“THIS AIN’T NO CAR, Y’ DINGDANG DRUGGIE! ISS A STUTZ BLACKHAWK!”

…

“Elvis?”

“Hey, Jer?”

“Bobby? What the hell is happening?”

“I got you fried chicken.”

“Oh, cool.”

thwip

“Bob, did Elvis just shoot a blowdart into my ne–”

flump

…

“He was getting in the car!”

“CAN’T TAKE NO CHANCES WITH NO DRUGGIE.”

“Well, you know: not to be pointing a finger, but you’ve eaten your weight in pills since we started our trip.”

“THASS MAH MEDICINE, BOY!”

“But you’ve been sharing it with me.”

“YOU LOOK SICK.”

“Dammit, man. All right, let’s just get him in the car.”

“WHY’D WE HAVE T’ GET ONE O’ TH’ FAT ITERATIONS, MAN?”

“Just help me.”

“AH SHALL HELP YOU. CHARLIE HODGE! HELP HAIRY GARCIA PUT WHATEVER TH’ HELL THIS THING IS IN TH’ STUTZ!”

“You make it difficult to be your friend.”

“WE AIN’T FRIENDS. WE BEST FRIENDS.”

“Great. Gimme the blow gun.”

“AH WILL GIVE IT T’ YOU BECAUSE AH WANT TO, NOT CUZ YOU SAID TO.”

“Whatever. And stop eating Jerry’s chicken!”

“IT JUS’ SMELLED SO DANG GOOD, MAN.”

…

…

…

“Am I too late?’

Post’s over, John.

“But, I had–”

Post’s over.

“HOW MANY TIMES AH GOTTA PASS ON THAT BOY?”

You heard Elvis. Post’s over.

“I hate all of you.”

Bearcat, Bear, Cat

March 4, 2017 / / 3 Comments

“HOW YOU DOIN’ BACK THERE, HAIRY GARCIA?”

“This is, uh, real comfortable. Spacious. Man can really kick off his sandals in a backseat like this. Lotta bliss to be found.”

“YOU FIND ANY EXTRA, YOU SEND IT UP HERE.”

“Aye-aye. Elvis, what are these seats made of?”

“THAT THERE IS LEATHER FROM A TUFTED VARLET.”

“Huh. What, uh, what kind of animal is that?”

“AH HAVE NO IDEA, BUT ISS SO SOFT YOU COULD WIPE YER ASS WITH IT.”

“Oh, yeah. You shouldn’t though.”

“YOU WANNA WIPE YER ASS ON MAH CAR, HAIRY GARCIA, THEN YOU GO ‘HEAD. YOU MAH BEST FRIEND AN’ WE HAVIN’ ADVENTURES JUS’ LIKE HUCK AN’ JIM, MAN.”

“There are small differences, I guess.”

“MEBBE WE GONNA MEET A HOBO KING. WILL HE TEACH US HIS SECRETS? AH DO NOT KNOW, BUT AH AM EXCITED T’ FIND OUT.”

“Okee-doke. But, you know: first we gotta get all the time machines back.”

“YOU GOT A LINE ON YER BASS PLAYER?”

“Yeah, well, that’s a problem. Nobody’s seen him in a few days. Could be anywhere.”

“AH HOPE HE AIN’T IN TH’ YEAR 3411 GETTIN’ HISSELF A PAIR O’ QUANTUM NIPPLES.”

“Me, too.”

“MAN, ME AN’ YOU IS JUST SIMPATICO, HAIRY GARCIA.”

“Uh, y’know, Elvis…you can call me Bobby.”

“AH C’N CALL ANYBODY WHATEVER AH WANT T’ CALL ‘EM. AH CHOOSE T’ CALL YOU HAIRY GARCIA. YOU WANNA STOP AT STUCKEY’S?”

“I’m good.”

“YER LOSS, MAN. NOW TELL TH’ KING ABOUT THIS WAYWARD BASS PLAYER. YOU GOT A HUNCH WHERE HE AT? OR WHEN?”

“Here’s the thing about Phil that might work to our advantage: he’s kinda lazy. Most likely, he’s drunk in a bar in San Ysidro.”

“THEN AH SHALL POINT MAH GLAMOROUS AN’ POWERFUL CAR THATTAWAY. HOW YOU FIXED F’R SCARVES AN’ WATER?”

“More than enough of both.”

“YOU SURE? AH C’N STOP AN’ LET CHARLIE HODGE OUTTA TH’ TRUNK.”

“I’m good.”

“WE OUGHTTA GET OFF TH’ HIGHWAY AN’ GO T’ ONE O’ THOSE JOINTS THAT SELLS EV’RYTHING. YOU KNOW: WHERE TH’ POOR FOLKS EAT AT. THEY GOT CHICKEN AN’ SEAFOOD AN’ CHINESE FOOD AN’ MUFFINS AN’ PIZZA. THEN, Y’ MASH ALL THAT T’GETHER AN’ HAVE MISS MARY DEEP-FRY IT. AH CALL IT A BAD NEIGHBORHOOD SAN’WICH. ISS SO DELICIOUS Y’ GET A BONER EATIN’ IT.”

“Not hungry.”

“DO YOU HAVE LOVE IN YER LIFE, HAIRY GARCIA?”

“Sure, yeah. Quite a bit. Wife, kids, Jeff Chimenti.”

“AH HAVE LOST MAH PRISCILLA! MAH TEENAGED BRIDE DONE RUN OFF WITH TH’ KARATE INSTRUCTOR!”

…

“YOU HEAR ME?”

“Yeah, uh, sorry. Just kinda amazed by the fact that the sentence ‘My teenaged bride ran off with the karate instructor’ is completely factual and not exaggerated for comic effect.”

“DAMMIT, HAIRY GARCIA, AH AM TRYIN’ T’ BE REAL WITH YOU! STOP MAKIN’ ASIDES T’ THE AUDIENCE!”

“You’re right. Continue.”

“WHEN AH FIRST SAW MAH PRISCILLA, SHE WAS BUT A SLIP OF A GIRL. KEPT FALLIN’ OVER CUZ HER BEEHIVE HAIRDO WAS BIGGER THAN SHE WAS. MAH PRISCILLA WAS A DELICATE FLOWER THAT AH NEEDED TO PLUCK, AN’ ALSO MAKE MAH LOVE TO.”

“She was a looker.”

“SOME SAID IT WAS WRONG CUZ SHE WAS SO YOUNG. BUT AH COULD NOT RESIST HER CHARMS, MAN. SHE WAS A STONE-COLD TEEN FOX. YOU KNOW WHAT AH’M TALKIN’ ABOUT?”

…

…

…

“No.”

“YOU NEEDED T’ THINK ‘BOUT THAT?”

“Let’s just talk about you. Why’d she leave? Marriage going bad before that?”

“TH’ MARRIAGE WAS HEAVENLY, MAN. SHE PROVIDED ME WITH MAH PRECIOUS GIRL-CHILD, LISA MARIE.”

“Maybe you should’ve had another kid. I hear having another kid fixes problems.”

“YOU BITE YER TONGUE, HAIRY GARCIA! YOU BITE IT RIGHT OFF! IF AH WASN’T USIN’ MAH FEET AN’ HANDS F’R DRIVIN’, AH WOULD BE USIN’ ‘EM F’R KARATE!”

“What’d I say?”

“HOW COULD AH GIVE MAH GIFT T’ PRISCILLA AFTER SHE HAD TH’ BABY? THASS A RUINED COOTER, MAN! CAN’T DO NOTHIN’ WITH THAT KINDA COOTER! AH DON’T EVEN KNOW IF THAT FULLY QUALIFIES AS A COOTER ANY MORE!”

“Wow.”

“LISSEN UP: BABIES COME FROM GOD. WE KNOW THIS FROM OUR STUDIES. AH READ LOTSA BOOKS ‘BOUT THIS KINDA STUFF. BABIES COME FROM GOD. THAT MEANS WHEN A BABY COMES OUT YER COOTER, YER COOTER IS GOD. CAN’T BE STICKIN’ YER PECKER IN GOD, MAN.”

“I guess not.”

“NOT IN TH’ SOUTH, AT LEAST. DUNNO WHATCHOO WEIRDOS FROM CALIFORNIA GET UP TO.”

“We don’t stick our peckers in God, Elvis.”

“ALL RIGHT. THASS GOOD T’ HEAR. YOU WAN’ SOME SPAGHETTI?”

“Still not hungry.”

“AH GOT IT RIGHT HERE IN THE GLOVE COMPARTMENT. WOULDN’T EVEN NEED T’ STOP.”

“Nuh-uh.”

APPLE WATCH NOISE

“That’s me.”

“AH KNOW THASS YOU. KING WOULDN’T WEAR ONE O’ THEM SISSY STRAPS.”

“Sure.”

…

“Weir here.”

“Look up, Bobby Grateful.”

“Who is this?”

“Is Putin. I have plane now.”

“How’d you afford a plane? The Flaming Groovies never sold any records.”

…

“Put Elvis on phone.”

“You bet. Elvis, he wants to talk to you.”

“HEY, POOTER.”

“Is not name.”

“ME AN’ HAIRY GARCIA COMIN’ T’ KICK YER COMMIE ASS BACK T’ TH’ LIBRARY IN LONDON MARX  SCRIBBLED YER DOPEY SYSTEM IN.”

“Communism not dopey. Is for people.”

“NAH, MAN. ELVIS IS F’R TH’ PEOPLE. COMMUNISM’S F’R JOKERS AN’ WOOLY BOOGERS.”

“You are woofy booboo.”

“WOOLLY BOOGER.”

“Woodoo boogie.”

“WOOLY BOOGER.”

“Nyet. This cannot be said with Russian accent.”

“POINT: AMERICA.”

“I have many missile. Maybe I shoot ugly American car.”

“UGLY? MAN, THIS HERE’S A STUTZ BEARCAT. YOU THINK ISS UGLY, THEN YOU MUST BE LOOKIN’ AT YER FACE AN’ MISTAKIN’ IT F’R MAH FINE AUTOMOBILE.”

“Nice burn, Elvis.”

“THANK YOU, HAIRY GARCIA. THANK YOU VERY MUCH.”

“Is no burn.”

“Y’ BURNT, BOY! AH BURNT YA!”

“No burn.”

“MEBBE AH SEND DR. NICK OVER THERE T’ MINISTER T’ YER BURNS. HE COULD APPLY SOME SORTA MEDICATED POULTICE.”

“Propaganda. Burn is propaganda.”

“NOW PISS OFF, IVAN. ME AN’ MAH BEST FRIEND GOIN’ T’ FIND A DRUNKEN BASS PLAYER FROM 1985 WHO DONE FILCHED SOME TIME-ALTERIN’ DEVICES!”

“Da. This is what Putin is doing.”

“WHAT NOW?”

“Phil?”

“Hey, Bobby.”

“You joined the Flaming Groovies?”

“Listen: ’85 me is a drunken fool, and he can’t be trusted with one time machine, let alone several. Whatever item of clothing that jackass has turned into a chronofucker needs to be confiscated.”

“Yeah, no, I agree. That’s what me and Elvis are doing. Why didn’t you come with us?”

“It seems like Putin’s the only one around here who knows what he’s doing.”

“I actually can’t argue with that.”

“AH CAN! AH NOW DECLARE KARATE WAR ON ALL ITERATIONS OF YER BASS PLAYER!”

“Okay, have fun driving around with the lunatic. I’m going to take care of this.”

RUSSIAN DIAL TONE NOISE

“He sounds well.”

“HE GONNA SOUND BEATEN.”

“King?”

“BEST FRIEND?”

“Who’s in the passenger seat?”

“AH HAVE NO IDEA WHO THIS MAN IS.”

“Okay. That spaghetti offer still on the table?”

“AH KNEW YOU COULDN’T RESIST ISS SIREN SONG, MAN.”

Award Season

March 2, 2017 / / 3 Comments

Oh, Christ.

“Hey, brother. How’s it hangin’?”

Don’t do shtick.

“My name’s Hank “The Hawk” Knut–”

DON’T DO SHTICK!

…

“Okay.”

I’m sorry I yelled, but I can’t deal with people doing their characters at me.

“I got it.”

I’m not in your improv troupe, John Mayer. You come in this dojo, you come correct.

“This is a dojo?”

Elvis is rubbing off on me a little. What is this?

“Promoting the new album.”

Right. Tears From My Penis.

“No.”

Stop Touching Her, Orlando.

“That hurts.”

Hey, man. I miss her, too. But, seriously: what is this?

“It’s one of my many characters. I do voices, impressions. I like to play dress-up.”

Sure.

“This is Hank “The Hawk” Knutley.”

Blah.

“You could do better?”

Porkchop Paxton. Jeremiah “Mumbleberry” Foyt. Hillman Gravy.

“Yeah, those are better.”

You need a writer.

“Maybe I do. Dead had someone else write their lyrics, right?”

Yup.

“Maybe I’ll try it. I know just the guy.”

Really? I’m honored , but–

CELL PHONE NOISE

Are you calling someone?

“Shh.”

Holy shit, you did not just shush me.

“Shh.”

You’re gonna get it, mister.

CELL PHONE NOISE

“Hola?”

“Benjy?”

“Juan! Como esta?”

“Why are you speaking Spanish?”

“Cuba, baby!”

“Cuba, cool. Seeing it before it gets ruined.”

“No, no. It’s 1961. Elvis sent me here. Him and Bobby are fighting Communism’s main forces, and I’m cleaning up around the edges.”

“Riiiiiiight.”

“You haven’t really been in this storyline, have you?”

“Not as much as I’d like.”

“It’s been fun! Except for getting eaten by dinosaurs. Not fun in the slightest. And it doesn’t get any better: I’ve been eaten, like, a dozen times and it’s just as painful and terrifying as the first time.”

“They say you can get used to anything.”

“They’ve never been eaten by a dinosaur.”

“True. Listen, Benj: you wanna be my writer?”

…

“Didn’t we talk about this last week?”

“We did, but–”

“You said no. So now I’m Elvis’ sensei.”

“Again: I have not been in the storyline, so when you say things like “So now I’m Elvis’ sensei” without any context, I don’t know how to respond.”

“I’m in the Memphis Mafia. Let’s just leave it at that for the sake of the conversation.”

“Sure. That makes much more sense.”

“So, you know: I dunno if I got the time now, John.”

“You could do two things.”

“I’d have to ask Elvis. Hold–”

“HERE AH AM.”

“–on. Oh, hey, King.”

“Hi, Elvis.”

“WHATCHOO WEARIN’, BOY? YOU DOIN’ ONE O’ YER LITTLE CHARACTERS?”

“Yeah. His name is Hank “The Haw–”

“PASS! HELLO, SENSEI BENJY. WHAT WISDOM HAVE YOU BROUGHT BACK FROM YER RECENT TRIP T’ TH’ NETHERWORLD?”

“Always choose a slicker over an umbrella.”

“DAMN, MAN. THASS SOME GOOD ADVICE.”

“What are you up to, King?”

“AH AM ACCEPTIN’ AN AWARD.”

“For what?”

“MAH GREATNESS.”

“Okay. Weren’t you on a road trip with Bobby?”

“WHO?”

“Hairy Garcia.”

“HE IS MAH BEST FRIEND NOW! WE LIKE TONY CURTIS ‘N SIDNEY POITIER IN THE DEFIANT ONES, EXCEPT WE BOTH WHITE. AND WE AIN’T CHAINED T’ EACH OTHER. AN’ ALSO WE LIKE EACH OTHER.”

“Just like it.”

“UH-HUH.”

“Where is he?”

“AH ARRANGED F’R HIM TO BE PRESENTED WITH AN AWARD, TOO.”

“Look what Elvis got me.”

“THASS A FRIENDSHIP TROPHY RIGHT THERE, HAIRY GARCIA. SYMB’LIZES OUR FRATERNAL LOVIN’.”

“You bet. Heavy sucker.”

“Elvis?”

“SENSEI BENJY?”

“I’ve got a great offer to do some writing, but I don’t know if you’d be okay with me doing it. It might cut into our time together.”

…

“NEXT SUMBITCH WHO DON’ UNNERSTAND HOW TIME MACHINES WORK IS GETTIN’ SHOT!”

“Oh, right. I can do it.”

“YOU GOTTA FOLLOW YER BLISS, MAN, MAH BEST FRIEND HAIRY GARCIA TAUGHT ME THAT.”

“I didn’t really teach it. Just kinda said it once or twice.”

“AH LEARN FROM YOU.”

“Neato.”

“King, lemme call you back.”

“YOU ASSASSINATED CASTRO YET, BOY?”

“It’s on my to-do list.”

“HOP TO IT.”

DIAL TONE EVEN THOUGH PHONES DO NOT DO THAT ANY MORE

The Joining Of The Two

March 1, 2017 / / 1 Comment

“Hey, asshole. I’m a ballerina. Looka me dance.”

Hey, Phil from ’85. Everybody’s looking for you.

“Let ’em look for my balls, and then let ’em suuuuuuuuuck.”

Please give back all the time machines and the ham.

“I ate the ham.”

Please give back the time machines.

“Top-notch ham.”

This is not about the ham.

“Still had the bone in. Picked it up and ate it like a turkey leg. Took off my shirt because I got sweaty.”

Holy shit, do I want to stop talking about this fucking ham.

“The Jewish thing?”

No, I’m just nauseated .

“Nauseated is a very Jewish thing to be.”

Can we discuss the–

“Actually, that sounds great.”

HUHWHLORF

…

Ew.

“The Heinies needed some breathing room.”

“Jesus, man. You’re a mess.”

“Who’s that?”

“I’m 2016 Phil.”

Oh, no. NO. One iteration at a time!

“Stay out of this, young man.”

“Yeah, stay out of this, similarly-aged man.”

“Dammit, 85 Phil: fat, drunk, and stealing time machines is no way to go through life.”

“Don’t tell me what to do. You’re not my father.”

“No, I’m you.”

“Right. Heinie?”

“No.”

“Doobie?”

“Sure.”

chik

Pwof Pwof Pwof

PHWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

…

“That’s good doobie.”

Okay, I officially have no fucking idea what’s happening.

“Well, whose fault is that?”

“Ha, burnt.”

“Jackass, give the time machines back.”

“No.”

“I tried.”

DIAL TONE EVEN THOUGH 2016 PHIL WAS NOT ON THE PHONE

“He yoinked the doobie!”

Phil from 1985, I need you to concentrate. What have you done with the devices powerful enough to rend time itself in half like a bootleg tee-shirt?

“No more devices. No more Time Cape. No more Time Sheath.”

Oh, God, what did you do?

“Time Sweatband.”

Dammit. Why?

“You can lose a sheath. Capes get dropped. Sweatband? That fucker stays put.”

True.

“My forearm is the nexus of all realities.”

Yes, but my point is: that’s not optimal. Can’t you at least give that thing to a more sober iteration?

“Fuck those guys. Phil from ’78 owes me $20. Besides, I like it. It’s like my Apple Watch.”

How is a Time Sweatband like an Apple Watch?

“Can’t FaceTime on either.”

Irrelevant.

MEANWHILE

“HAIRY GARCIA, AH REGRET EVER WANTIN’ TO KARATE WITH YOU IN VIOLENCE. AH WISH T’ NOW KARATE WITH YOU IN FRIENDSHIP, AN’ MAYBE DO SOME BIBLE STUDY T’GETHER.”

“Uh, yeah. Okee-doke.”

“THIS HERE ROAD TRIP DONE BROUGHT ME CLOSER T’ YOU THAN AH HAVE BEEN WITH ANY MAN. THESE MILES DONE GLUED US! YER WISE WORDS IN MAH EAR, YOUR POLK SALAD AGAINST MAH BACK. WE ARE NOW BROTHERS.”

“We’ve only gone, like, six miles. You keep stopping so let people admire you.”

“AH COULD NOT DEPRIVE TH’ PEOPLE OF THAT. EV’RY MAN, WOMAN, AND ITTY BITTY THING DESERVES A CHANCE T’ TELL ME HOW WUNNERFUL AH AM.”

“And Wendy’s.”

“AH ALSO WANTED WENDY’S.”

“I’m just saying, you know: we’re never gonna get there at this pace.”

“WE AIN’ GOIN’ THERE, MAN. WE GOIN’ THEN.”

“Ah. Yeah, then I guess we got all the time in the world.”

“CONSISTENTLY ODD HOW AH AM TH’ ONLY ONE ‘ROUND HERE THAT UNNERSTANDS TH’ FULL RAMIFICATIONS O’ HAVIN’ A TIME MACHINE.”

“Sloppy writing masquerading as a running joke.”

“THASS PROB’LY IT. YER SO SMART, HAIRY GARCIA. HOW YOU FIXED ON SCARVES?”

“All set.”

“WAWA?”

“Fine, thanks.”

“LOOKIT ME, MAN. AH’M YER CHARLIE HODGE. THASS TH’ DEPTH OF MAH MANLY FEELINGS F’R YOU, HAIRY GARCIA. WE LIKE ACHILLES AN’ PATROCLES, MAN.”

“I, uh, don’t really wanna have that kind of relationship with you, Elvis.”

“WE OUT THERE PLAYIN’ OUR BEAUTIFUL MUSIC IN TROY, BUT MAH HEEBIE-JEEBIES ACT UP! AH CANNOT LEAVE MAH DRESSING ROOM. SO, OUT OF YER LOVE F’R ME, YOU DON MAH JUMPSUIT AN’ ENNERTAIN ALL TH’ NICE PEOPLE.”

“Pass.”

“BUT THEN A GUY KILLS YOU, SPURRIN’ ME INTA ACTION, AN’ SONG. AN’ THEN AH KILL A HORSE WITH KARATE.”

“You’re getting your epics mixed up, and I still pass.”

“IF YOU WANT, YOU C’N HOL’ ON TIGHTER.”

“I’m fine.”

“DON’ BE AFRAID TO, IS WHAT AH’M SAYIN’.”

“Noted.”

“WHATCHOO WANT AT BURGER KING?”

“I’m still working on my chili.”

“YOU GOTTA GO?”

“No.”

“AH GET EIGHT WHOPPERS, HOW MANY YOU GONNA EAT?”

“None.”

“AH WILL EAT EIGHT WHOPPERS.”

“Sure.

“YOU MAH BEST FRIEND, HAIRY GARCIA.”

“You bet.”

“NOW LESS GO DEFEAT COMMUNISM.”

“Hit it.”

An Increasingly Convoluted Happenstance

February 27, 2017 / / 5 Comments

Aren’t you and Elvis supposed to be saving the world from Communism or something?

“That’s the plan, yeah. Waiting on him. Decided to come back to Daytona for a minute.”

Why?

“Enjoyed it.”

Yeah?

“Yup, yup.”

…

Bobby, please don’t use the Time Sheath to give Lillian Monster a do-over. We’re all unhappy she crashed, but this wanton use of time-altering devices is what got us here in the first place.

“Superman did it.”

And people are still mad at that part of the movie. It was very dumb.

“Admittedly, yeah, but there’s still precedent.”

Please don’t.

“She’s been moping around the house, man. Hasn’t told me she’s a vegan in a week.”

Oh, that’s not good.

“So, you know:  and then Elvis gets here, quick chrono-reset, and then, you know…whatever the hell is next.”

I advise against this.

“I’ll take your advice under advisement.”

“WE GOT OURSELVES ANOTHER DANG SITUATION!”

Oh, what now?

“Hey, Elvis.”

“YER DINGDONG BASS PLAYER DONE STOLE BACK THE TIME SCARF AN’–”

…

“HAIRY GARCIA!? WHAT HAPPENED T’ HAIRLESS GARCIA?”

“Okay, see: I am both of those people, but I’m actually not that person and also that’s the wrong name.”

“AH UNNERSTOOD NONE O’ THAT.”

“Yeah, but it’s all logical. Go check.”

“AIN’T NO REVERSE TO TH’ KING! AH GO FORWARD, MAN, OR SOMETIMES SIDE T’ SIDE, AN’ ALSO AH REST SOMETIMES.”

“Sweet ride.”

“YOU HAVE A JEWELER’S EYE, BOY. THIS HERE’S A PIECE O’ DETROIT STEEL MADE RIGHT IN MEMPHIS. AH CALL IT TH’ CHARIOT, HOW YOU LIKE THEM SWEET TITTIES?”

“Bike’s great, titties are great. All in, Elvis.”

“GOOD T’ HEAR.”

“Who’s your buddy?”

“THIS A HOBO AH PICKED UP ON MAH TRAVELS. IN CASE OF DINOSAUR ATTACK, AH PLANNED TO THROW THE VAGRANT TO TH’ BEAST.”

“Well, it’s good that you didn’t have to. I guess that means no more dinosaurs?”

“NO, THIS HERE’S TH’ NINTH HOBO AH’VE PICKED UP. REST ALL GOT ET UP.”

“Ah.”

Guys. I need both of you to concentrate. Elvis, what did you say about the Time Sheath–

“SCARF!”

“He calls it a scarf.”

–getting stolen by Phil?

“WHO?”

The bass player.

“The bass player.”

“YESSIR, THAT DRUNKEN FOOL DONE SNUCK INT’ MAH PRIVATE HOME AN’ STOLE AWAY WITH THE TIME SCARF. AN’ ALSO TH’ TIME CAPE. AN’ HE RUMMAGED THROUGH MAH MEDICINE CABINET SOMETHIN’ FIERCE. PLUS, HE MIGHTA STOLEN CHARLIE HODGE.”

Might have?

“CHARLIE HODGE COULDA ALSO GOTTEN ET BY TH’ STEGOSAURUS IN TH’ RACQUETBALL COURT.”

That thing’s still in there?

“WELL, WHY DON’ YOU TELL ME HOW T’ GET A 80-TON IGUANA OUTTA A RACQUETBALL COURT? WE DONE CALLED EV’RY EXTERMINATOR IN TOWN.”

They all refused?

“THEY ALL GOT ET!”

…

We need to stay on topic. You have a habit of digressing.

“MAH MIND WANDERS LIKE A PROPHET.”

Phil—the bass player–has all the time machines?

“AN’ AH BELIEVE HE STOLE A HAM FROM ME.”

The ham is not important.

“AH HAD MAH MOUTH ALL FIXED FOR IT.”

Forget about the ham.

“GONNA HAVE MISS MARY COVER IT UP WITH MAGIC SHELL. THAT CHOCOLATE STUFF GETS ALL HARD, MAN? THASS A DANG MIRACLE. COMES OUT SOFT, GETS HARD. LIKE IF A BONER WAS DELICIOUS.

“I agree. You can’t beat Magic Shell.”

Bobby, I forgot you were here.

“Elvis draws a lot of attention.”

“AH AM A SPECTACLE.”

So, neither of you has any sort of time machine?

“Nope.”

“AH DO NOT. LEMME ASK TH’ HOBO.”

…

“HE DOES NOT.”

Great. You two are useless. I’ll handle this.

CELL PHONE NOISE

“This is Phil Lesh of the Grateful Dead.”

Give back the Time Sheath; give back the Time Cape; you can keep the ham.

“You got the wrong guy.”

You just said you were Phil Lesh.

“I’m Phil from ’95.”

Dammit. I misdialed. Sorry.

“You looking for ’78 me? He owes me $20.”

’85 version.

“What did that drunken jackass do now?”

Stole a couple time machines.

“And a ham?”

And a ham.

“Not my problem.”

DIAL TONE EVEN THOUGH PHONES DO NOT DO THAT ANY MORE

Weir Everywhen

February 26, 2017 / / 4 Comments

Why are you making that face?

“This is, uh, Bobby Picture Pose #1.”

Right, but you don’t start doing your poses for at least 20 years.

“Uh-huh. I don’t know if you’ve been, you know, apprised of the situation, but time’s getting real slippery.”

Have you spoken to Phil?

“Phil from when?”

Mid-80’s.

“Y’know, I been meaning to give him a call. Hanging out a lot with 2015 Phil.”

Why?

“Free meals.”

Sure. Question.

“There’s a lot of dinosaurs.”

Are there dino…okay. Yeah, this is all Phil’s fault.

“Yeah?”

Yeah. He absconded with the Time Sheath–

“TIME SCARF!”

–and…dammit.

“YOU CALL THAT DEVICE O’ NIGH-ON INFINITE POWER BY ISS RIGHTFUL NAME, BOY.”

I am. It’s a Time Sheath.

“Hey, Elvis.”

“HELLO THERE, YOUNG MAN. AH BELIEVE AH KNOW YER FATHER.”

“No, that’s me 30 years from now.”

“YOU OUGHTA MOISTURIZE MORE, BOY. YOU ONE O’ THEM GRATEFUL DEADS?”

“Yeah, I’m the Bobby. I mean, my name’s Bobby, but I am also the Bobby.”

“BOY, AH’M GONNA ASK YOU A QUESTION AN’ AH DO NOT WANT YOU T’ GET OFFENDED.”

“Okee-doke.”

“YOU SLOW?”

“Just my tempos.”

“STOP TALKIN’ IN CIRCLES AN’ RIDDLES, HIPPIE! WE GOT TIMESTREAMS A-JUMPIN’ THEIR BANKS AN’ A-FLOODIN’ UP ON PEOPLE’S VERANDAS!”

“And dinosaurs.”

“AND DINOSAURS. LAST NIGHT, A PACK O’ RAPTORS ATE MAH STANKY, UNLETTERED, SNAGGLETOOTHED WEASEL’S ASSHOLE OF A DADDY–”

“Vernon.”

Vernon.

“VERNON. CHARLIE HODGE IS BRINGIN’ DADDY SCARVES AN’ WATER IN HEAVEN NOW!”

Did the raptors eat Charlie Hodge, too?

“CHARLIE HODGE LOST HIS LIFE IN A CONCURRENT, BUT UNRELATED, INCIDENT.”

You shot him?

“AH DID. OUT OF MAH GRIEF, AH DID. ALSO AH WANTED TO.”

Sure, but now you don’t have anyone to bring you your scarves and water.

“GOT THAT COVERED. SENSEI BENJY?”

“Yeah, King?”

“WHEN ARE YOU?”

“King, I’m in the 90’s.”

“WHATCHOO DOIN’ THEN?”

“I am teaching some inner-city youth about the beauty of poetry by using Phish lyrics.”

“HOWZAT GOIN’?”

“Not well. Phish’s lyrics are terrible. Plus, an entire row of kids got eaten by dinosaurs.”

“THESE THUNDER-LIZARDS IS BECOMIN’ A NUISANCE!”

“Yeah, and I’m almost out of chalk.”

“SENSEI BENJY, YOU MUST USE YER POWERS T’ BRING BACK MAH EYEBROW-LESS, MANGE-COVERED, PAROLE-VIOLATIN’ HOMUNCULUS OF A DADDY–”

“Vernon.”

Vernon.

“Vernon.”

“Bobby, is that you?”

“Hey, Benjy.”

“–VERNON. AN’ ALSO CHARLIE HODGE, IF’N YOU GOT SOME TIME. JOURNEY T’ TH’ NETHERWORLD LIKE ORPHEUS AN’ RETURN WHAT AH LOVE SO MUCH, AN’ ALSO CHARLIE HODGE.”

“Yeah. Uh. Elvis? It doesn’t actually work that way. I don’t think I can, like, bring people back.”

“YOU DON’ THINK? SO YOU NEVER TRIED?”

“Well, no. But I’m pretty sure that I can’t brin–”

THWIP

“Et tu, Elvis?”

flump

“THAT COMMIE SUMBITCH GAVE ME SOME POSION DARTS.”

Of course.

“HAIRLESS GARCIA STILL HERE?”

…

“HAIRLESS GARCIA!? WHERE AND WHEN ARE YOU?”

…

“HAIRLESS!”

“Does he think that’s my name?”

Yes.

“Ah. Uh, Elvis?”

“THERE YOU IS. OR, THEN YOU IS. AH AM NOT QUITE SURE WHASS GOIN’ ON HERE. OR NOW.”

“You just gotta roll with it until he runs out of pictures.”

“OR SOMETIMES HE JUST GETS BORED.”

“Also an option.”

“BUT F’R NOW WE GOT DINOSAURS AN’ TIME SHENANIGANS T’ FIX UP. TELL YER KING WHERE YER BASS PLAYER IS.”

“Phil?”

“AH DID’N ASK WHAT HIS NAME WAS, AH ASKED WHERE HE WAS. AH AIN’T NEVER ASKED NO BASS PLAYER’S NAME, BOY!”

“Good philosophy.”

“ISS SERVED ME WELL SO FAR. AW RIGHT, HAIRLESS GARCIA. LESS GO ADVENTURIN’ THROUGH TIME T’ DEFEAT COMMUNISM.”

“You bet.”

…

…

…

“Excuse me?”

Yes? Who are you?

“The guy with Bobby in the jacket.”

Ah. Randos don’t get speaking parts.

“Where am I?”

It’s complicated, but it’s over.

“What.”

Post’s done. All finished here.

“So what do I do?”

After I leave?

“Yeah?”

You read your Bible, Rando?

“Yeah.”

You’re in Limbo.

“For how long?”

You should have brought a book.

“Oh.”

Later.

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