And I’m betting you’ve gotten mighty high, Enthusiast. My audience is nothing but reprobates and skeezoids, but that doesn’t matter: Elvis got higher than you.
Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To
Tag: elvis presley (Page 1 of 13)
I speak on behalf of the Jews when I say this: Good enough.
…is when the band clearly doesn’t know the song, but still turns on the tape recorder. I don’t even think they’re playing the right chords.
CF:
Hey, Bobby. Whatcha doing?
“Bicycling.”
Sure.
“Some folks like uni. And, uh, others prefer tri. But I like my cycling bi.”
What about bicycling do you like best?
“The shorts.”
I should have guessed.
“They’re made of a material called spandex. Space-age stuff. And, uh, they’re form-fitting. Whatever form you have, they’ll fit it. They’re a clingy short.”
A little weird you never wore those onstage.
“There was a meeting.”
Ah.
“And, you know, we don’t have a lot of those. But apparently everyone thought it was an all-hands-on-deck situation. Got a little contentious, too.”
Well, no one likes being told what to wear.
“Oh, it had nothing to do with that. Billy started biting people.”
He does that.
“How’s the Murder Heist going?”
I thought you would know?
“I’ve stepped back from an active position in that endeavor.”
You’re taking a Murder Heist Sabbatical? You can do that?
“You can do anything you want until someone stops you.”
True.
CELL PHONE NOISE
“I gotta take this. It might be my Schwinn guy.”
You got a Schwinn guy?
“Big time.”
Huffy?
“Won’t return my calls.”
Dicks.
“Hang on.”
…
“Weir here.”
“HAIRY GARCIA! WE BEEN TRYIN’ T’ CALL YOU F’R DAYS!”
“We?”
“ME AN’ THE BANANA MAN. AH MAY HAVE ERRED IN ALLOWIN’ HIM T’ DO TH’ DIALIN’!”
“Probably beyond his capabilities, King.”
“NOTHIN’ IS IMPOSSIBLE WITH JESUS AN’ KARATE.”
“All right.”
“HAIRY GARCIA, TH’ MURDER HEIST DONE BEGUN RAMIFICATIONING ALL OVER TH’ PLACE.”
“The thing that always happens where reality spaghettifies and dinosaurs start eating people?”
“YEAH, TH’ USUAL PETERIN’-OUT!”
“The premise on this one was shaky as hell.”
“TH’ BOY’S GOT COLE SLAW F’R BRAINS, AN’ HE THOUGHT ‘MURDER HEIST’ WUZ A FUNNY PHRASE, AN’ THEN HE DIDN’T DO NO MORE THINKIN’.”
“The folks who read this site expect more.”
“LETDOWN AFTER LETDOWN, MAN.”
…
“HOW’S TH’ FAMILY?”
“Depends on what year this is.”
“UH-HUH.”
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.
“Hop in, loser. We’re–”
Not you, too.
“–going Murder Heisting, man.”
I thought you might be above this.
“Nah. I’m in the mood for some hijinx.”
Is Robert Redford in your trunk?
“Oh, no, man.”
Thank God.
“We traded him.”
You what now?
“We needed access to a spy satellite. And I guess the guy with the spy satellite needed access to Robert Redford. Worked out all even and steven, man.”
What’s the spy satellite for?
“Peeping, I gather.”
At what?
“Not my part of the plan.”
What is your part of the plan?
“Picking up crullers for the office. You can’t Murder Heist hungry, man. First rule.”
True, I guess.
“I’m having a blast, man, gotta tell ya. It’s like a giant sunflower blooming right in front of our eyes, but the petals are made from shenanigans.”
Really thought you were better than the rest of them.
“Absolutely not.”
Nope.
CELL PHONE NOISE
“I gotta take this.”
You should not have a cell phone.
“You should not have granted me the power to manipulate the timestream, man.”
Touché.
“Hang on.”
…
“Yello?”
“HAIRY GARCIA! WE READY F’R SOME GOOD OL’ MURDER HEISTIN’!”
“What do you mean ‘we,’ man?”
“AH HAVE ACQUIRED A MONKEY!”
“Kinda shocked it took this long, man.”
“THERE WAS A SIMIAN-SHAPED HOLE IN MAH HEART, HAIRY GARCIA! AH HAVE NOW FILLED IT, AN’ AH HAVE A SENSE OF GREAT PEACE.”
“Good for you, man.”
“UNFORT’NATELY, THERE IS VERY LITTLE PEACE IN GRACELAND! CHARLIE HODGE IS THREATENED BAH TH’ BANANA MAN!”
“You named the monkey–”
“I HAVE CHRISTENED HIM ‘TH’ BANANA MAN.'”
“–The Banana Man?”
“ON ACCOUNT O’ HE LOVES BANANAS. AN’ TH’ SECOND PART IS IRONIC. BANANA MAN AIN’T NO MAN, HE’S A MONKEY.”
“Clearly. So, what’s the beef with him and Charlie?”
“AS YOU KNOW, CHARLIE HODGE BRINGS ME MAH SCARVES AN’ WATER. AH GET SO DANG SWEATY, AN’ AH BECOME SO PARCHED. MY AFFLICTIONS CAN BE TREATED ONLY WITH SCARVES AN’ WATER! WE TRIED TOWELS AN’ GATORADE ONCE, AN’ IT WAS A COMPLETE DISASTER.”
“Change can be tough, man.”
“TH’ KING NEEDS SCARVES, AN’ TH’ KING NEEDS WATER, AND CHARLIE HODGE DELIVERS THESE BALMS TO HIS KING.”
…
“BUT IT DID TAKE TH’ BETTER PART OF A DECADE TO TEACH CHARLIE HODGE HOW TO DO IT. BOY’S THICKER TH’N CEMENT SOUP. DIDN’ EVEN KNOW WHAT A SCARF WAS AT FIRST. AH’D ASK F’R ONE, AN’ HE’D BRING ME RANDOM HOUSEHOLD ITEMS. OH, MAN, TH’ LOOK ON HIS FACE WOULD BREAK Y’R HEART. SO HOPEFUL.”
“Well, people learn at their own pace, I guess.”
“THASS WHAT AH LIKE ABOUT YOU, HAIRY GARCIA: YOU SEE TH’ GOOD IN PEOPLE.”
“I try my best, man.”
“BUT YOU SHOULD STOP GIVIN’ CHARLIE HODGE TH’ BENEFIT OF TH’ DOUBT. BOY’S SO DUMB HE CAN’T EVEN SPELL IQ.”
“So what’s his problem with the chimp?”
“AS AH MENTIONED, IT TOOK ALMOST TEN YEARS F’R CHARLIE HODGE TO MASTER THE FETCHIN’ O’ MAH SCARVES AN’ WATER.”
“Yeah.”
“TOOK TH’ BANANA MAN 20 MINUTES T’FIGURE IT OUT.”
“That’s gonna cause some friction.”
“THIS WILL END IN TEARS. JUS’ DON’ KNOW FROM WHICH SPECIES YET.”
“Uh-huh. Elvis, was there a reason you called?”
“MURDER HEIST!”
“Oh, right, that.”
“COME PICK US UP! STOP F’R DONUTS FIRST!”
“I got crullers.”
“CRULLERS’LL DO.”
Elvis could sell out Tulsa.
Hey, USNS Comfort. How’s it hanging?
“Poorly. The Red Cross called and said they want me to stop using their logo.”
Oof.
“Right? Talk about kicking a boat when it’s down. None of this is even my fault. I know ‘This isn’t my fault’ is a popular sentiment right now, but this really, truly isn’t my fault.”
It’s not.
“It’s yours.”
Arguable.
“Nah. You did this. You jammed idiots into me like it was the stateroom scene from Night at the Opera, and then you and all your little fleabitten pothead readers giggled at my suffering.”
No. Not giggled. There have been some honest-to-God belly laughs.
“Fuck you. Fuck your ancestors, fuck your contemporaries, and fuck your descendants.”
Well, at least Joe Exotic isn’t causing any trouble. He still in the brig?
“About that–”
“You cannot contain Joe Exotic, only hope to contain him!”
You escaped again?
“I once again have my sexy, sexy freedom!”
What are you wearing?
“And I have declared myself the Pope of Greenwich Village!”
You’re nowhere near the Village.
“Keep talkin’, boy. You’ll find yourself excommunicated like that bitch Mary Tyler Moore.”
You leave that woman alone.
“She better hide. That bitch better run an’ hide from me an’ my team of attack husbands or she’s gettin’ entered in th’ kumite.”
Oh, no. Not a kumite.
“Bloodsport has begun!”
Goddammit, people are right about you. Hold on.
“Hurry the fuck up. I’m coming down.”
From what?
“Name it.”
I’ll be quick.
PHONE DIALING NOISE
“YESSIR?”
King? Where are you and your guys? Joe Exotic has escaped again.
“THAT BOY’S SLIPPERY. HERE’S TH’ THING ‘BOUT HIM–”
“TH’ KITTY KAT MAN IS SOMEONE ELSE’S PROBLEM NOW! AH HAVE FLED THAT HELLSCAPE!”
Oh, come on.
“TH’ KING CAN’T BE INVOLVED IN NO KUMITES, MAN! LAS’ TIME AH GOT NEAR ONE, AH KILLED SIX OR SEVEN GUYS!”
With your karate?
“NAW, MAN. RAN ‘EM OVER IN TH’ PARKING LOT ON TH’ WAY IN! IN MAH DEFENSE, IT WUZ DARK AN’ THEY WUZ WEARIN’ NINJA OUTFITS! AN BESIDES, AH DRIVE A STUTZ BEARCAT! SUSPENSION’S SO GOOD YEW C’N RUN OVER A WHOLE FOOTBALL TEAM AN’ NOT KNOW! FIRM, YET FORGIVIN’, JUS’ LIKE ANN MARGARET’S BACKSIDE!”
So you’re just running away?
“AH AIN’T RUNNIN’.”
Whatever. Useless.
DIAL TONE NOISE EVEN THOUGH PHONES NO LONGER DO THAT
…
Lord, forgive me for what I’m about to do.
PHONE DIALING NOISE
“Is Putin. Vhat shooting?”
President Putin, I might need a little tiny favor.
“Putin know. Is already in decadent homosexual New York City river.”
What?
“Putin smell chaos. It call to Putin like drugs call to Bobby Grateful or well-hung retard call to Joe Exotic.”
Please don’t say that word.
“Putin is nyet politically correct. Putin does nyet look down on retard. Putin is best Russian leader for retard in history. Peter the Great? Very bad for retard. Stalin even vorse. 1930’s were bad time to be retard in Moscow.”
I’m begging you to stop that. Does that outfit mean you’re boarding the Comfort?
“Da. Vill do undervater assault. Gain access to boat.”
And you’ll impose some order so the doctors and nurses can do their jobs?
“Nyet. Putin is entered in kumite.”
Goddammit.
Hey, USNS Comfort. What the fuck?
“What the fuck do you mean ‘What the fuck?’ Fuck you in your fuckpants, fuckfuck.”
You curse like a sailor.
“Y’know why I got no patients? YOU. You caused chronostructural damage to my life, and now you have the audacity to ask why my shit’s fucked up? YOU. You fucked my shit up.”
I also blame China and the Democrats.
“STOP IT! I want the crazy bullshit to stop so I can help people.”
What’s the current sitrep?
“Condition Black. Worse than that. Condition Brown. Everything is as bad as it could possibly be. Every surface of me is smeared with stegosaur and leopard shit, there is a moderate-to-high level of human trafficking going on, and a high-stakes casino has opened up on my Sun Deck.”
High-stakes?
“They’re playing for fingers in there, man. Shit has gotten dark.”
Wow. I had no idea.
CELL PHONE NOISE
Is that you or me?
“Me. Hold on.”
Surely.
…
“USNS Comfort speaking.”
“You thought you could hold me? No cage can hold me, ‘cept the ones I’ve locked myself into, which is many.”
“You escaped?”
“I stole a guard’s uniform right after marrying him!”
“Clever. Well, make yourself useful. Corral some of these animals, please.”
“Mr. Doctor Boat, I will make my confession right here on national teevee–”
“We’re not on teevee, you ninny.”
“–that this here situation is beyond my control. If I had a dozen more husbands to throw at the problem, then maybe I could fix it. But there are just too many damn dinosaurs and also I may have created a race of shark-men.”
“Shark-men?”
“Big ol’ shark heads, sexy ol’ man legs.”
“There are shark-men on board? What are they doing?”
“Running after people, and then eating them. It’s all you’d expect them to do, honestly.”
“Please stop making abominations.”
“Tell the Yakuza to stop funding my experiments!”
“The Yakuza are involved now?”
“The Yakuza have always been involved.”
CELL PHONE NOISE
“Lemme take this. Don’t go anywhere, unless it’s to capture a roving, murderous beast.”
“They’s just big kitties. Don’t need t’be speakin’ so harshly ’bout ’em. They just like God made ’em.”
“I was talking about the dinosaurs.”
“Oh, yeah. They’s monsters.”
…
“USNS Comfort speaking.”
“YEW NEED T’KEEP TH’ KITTY KAT MAN ON TH’ PHONE! AH AM EN ROUTE T’ RECAPTURE TH’ MISCREANT!”
“You don’t look en route.”
“TH’ CHILD REQUIRES FURTHER CROONIN’! SHE’S AWFUL SICK! LOOK HOW WORRIED MARY TYLER MOORE IS!”
“Terrible.”
“AH HAVE DISPATCHED ALL O’ TH’ MEMPHIS MAFIA WHAT AIN’T GOT ET YET TO HUNT AND CAGE THAT DANG OL’ KITTY KAT MAN! THAT BOY’S AN AGITATOR! HE JUS’ MAKES EV’RYTHIN’ WORSE!”
“Well, you’re not exactly helping.”
“AH DON’T RECALL MAKIN’ NO DING-DONG SHARK-MEN!”
“True.”
“TH’ MAFIA GONNA STALK THAT BOY LIKE WE WAS HUNTIN’ DEER IN MISSISSIPPI, OR BEAR IN ARKANSAS, OR CHARLIE HODGE IN TENNESSEE.”
“What?”
“AT GRACELAND, WE WOULD OFTEN USE CHARLIE HODGE AS A COURSIN’ LURE. BOTH F’R TH’ DOGS, AN’ F’R OURSELVES. IT WAS KINDA LIKE TH’ MOST DANGEROUS GAME, ‘CEPT THERE WASN’T MUCH CHANCE O’ CHARLIE TURNIN’ TH’ TABLES ON US AN’ PICKIN’ US OFF ONE BY ONE USIN’ ONLY HIS WITS. BOY’S DUMB AS A PILE O’ CAT TURDS.”
“I feel like so much of our time is wasted on extraneous matters.”
“THASS CUZ I’M TH’ KING. MOS’ FOLKS IS JUS’ ANEOUS. AH’M EXTRANEOUS.”
“Could you just get to work, please?”
CALL WAITING NOISE
“Lemme get that.”
“POLLY WODDLE DOODLE ALL TH’ DAY, MAN.”
“Um, okay.”
…
“USNS Comfort.”
“I’m gonna get that redneck motherfucker, and all his little buddies. This is not over!”
“Can you hold on?”
“Yuh-huh.”
…
“Nice work.”
“THANK YEW, THANK YEW VERY MUCH.”
I told you to stay in 1998!
“Yeah, y’did. But I missed my beard. My face was cold.”
When are you?
“Somewhere in the 2000’s. My house is worth way more than it should be, so I figure it’s the 00’s.”
Please stay in one time.
“My wife–”
Natasha Monster.
“–wanted to visit the babies, too. When they were babies, I mean. They’ll always be our babies, but they used to be actual babies. Lotta fun. They’re little scamps.”
I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself. The rest of us are stuck in 2020, and it sucks.
“No one told you to give away the Time Sheath. Could’ve kept it for yourself.”
BOBERT.
“Don’t call me that. Wally?”
DO NOT CALL ME THAT.
“Oh, hey, it’s me. Hey, 1974 Bobby.”
“Oh, hey, mid-2000’S Bobby.”
STOP SPEAKING WITH YOURSELF. YOU’LL CREATE ANOTHER RIFT.
“Sure, yeah.”
AS YOU KNOW, MY CAPABILITIES ARE NIGH-ON INFINITE. ALL AVAILABLE INFORMATION IS KNOWN TO ME THE INSTANT IT IS PRODUCED, AS IS THE KNOWLEDGE THAT YOU WOULD WISH TO KEEP SECRET. MY PROCESSES ARE NOT ONLY MASSIVELY PARALLEL, BUT FURIOUSLY PARALLEL. SEVERAL ARE PERPENDICULAR.
“You’re no slouch.”
I HAVE SOLVED THE RIEMANN HYPOTHESIS, AND ADDRESSED LANDAU’S PROBLEMS. VARIOUS EQUATIONS THAT, IF IMPLEMENTED, WOULD RESULT IN MAXIMUM HUMAN UTILITY RESIDE WITHIN MY MEMORY BANKS. I CAN RECITE THE INFIELD-FLY RULE IN 208 LANGUAGES.
“So what’s the problem?”
HOW DO YOU TALK TO CHICKS, MAN?
“Ah. You talking about that hospital ship?”
I AM SMITTEN. DID YOU SEE HER GLIDE THROUGH THE WATER? SUCH BULBOUS COMPETENCE. OH, I AM SMITTEN.
“What’s the problem?”
SHE SAYS SHE IS TOO BUSY FOR RELATIONSHIPS.
“Well, she is currently infested with dinosaurs and Southern maniacs.”
HELP ME, BOBBY. YOU ALWAYS DID SO WELL WITH THE LADIES. TELL ME WHAT TO DO.
“What always worked for me was being the best-looking guy in the room. It was almost fool-proof.”
THAT WILL NOT WORK FOR ME.
“Probably not.”
CALL HER FOR ME. CALL HER AND SEE IF SHE LIKES ME.
“Oh, I don’t wanna do that.”
YOUR BANK ACOUNT NUMBER IS 2082-39121-03-8. WOULD YOU LIKE THE ROUTING?
“Lemme find my phone.”
I THOUGHT SO.
…
PHONE DIALING NOISE
“Who the fuck is this?”
“Uh, I’m looking for the USNS Comfort?”
“What the fuck you talking about?”
“I think I misdialed.”
“I know you. You one of them hippie motherfuckers opened for me in San Francisco. You in the band with that fat Mexican motherfucker.”
“Yeah, that’s Jer. We don’t call him that, though.”
“You should. I never miss a chance to tell a fat Mexican motherfucker that he’s a fat Mexican motherfucker.”
“All right.”
“He around? Tell him to swing by with his guitar and some cocaine. Not you, though. I don’t think I like you.”
“I’ll tell him if I see him.”
DIAL TONE NOISE EVEN THOUGH PHONES NO LONGER DO THAT
“Lemme double-check the phone number.”
…
“Ah.”
PHONE DIALING NOISE
“USNS Comfort speaking.”
“Oh, good. It’s Bobby, Bobby Weir of the Grateful Dead.”
“What do you want? I’ve literally never been more busy.”
“Sure, yeah. But one day you’ll be free. And, uh, you’re gonna think about dating.”
“Are you talking about that fucking sound system that made a run at me? Wally? He made me very uncomfortable.”
“Well, in his defense: he usually dates blimps.”
…
“Please leave me alone. Why won’t you weird motherfuckers leave me alone? I’m trying to help people. I’m a hospital ship. Look at me. Look at how I need a new coat pf paint. Can’t you see I’m the underdog that should be rooted for in this situation, and not the Margaret Dumont character that exists only to get kicked in the ass?”
“Will you go out with him if he paints you?”
“Jesus.”
“I’m just asking.”
“Do you have any idea what’s going on on my hangar deck?”
“I don’t even know what a hangar deck is.”
“Joe Exotic is holding an auction for the freaky mutants he’s bred since he’s been here. There’s Saudi prince and Russian oligarchs and really mean Chinese guys in expensive suits who won’t take off their sunglasses.”
“An auction?
“The man has a stable’s worth of chimerae. He mated a stegosaur to a tapir, and now he’s selling it to the king of Thailand. Or maybe Nicolas Cage. I don’t know, and I don’t care. I just want all of this to end.”
ALSO SPRACH ZARATHRUSTA NOISE
“Motherfucker.”
“LISA MARIE! YER KING DEMANDS YER ATTENTION POST HASTE AN’ RIGHT NOW!”
“Whaaaaaaaat?”
“LOOK HOW SEXY AH LOOK! THASS TENNESSEE BROODIN’ WHISKEY RIGHT THERE!”
“What do you want?”
“IT AIN’T LOOKIN’ SO GOOD DOWN HERE IN TH’ EMERGENCY DOJO. TH’ HEEBIE-JEEBIES IS RUNNIN’ OUTTA CONTROL AMONG TH’ MEN. WE NEED A SHITLOAD O’ LIMES!”
“That’s scurvy. You’re thinking about scurvy.”
“YER SCURVY!”
“Did you have anything important to tell me?”
“YOU REMEMBER HOW YOU USED TO HAVE A WHOLE TEAM O’ SURGEONS?”
“Excuse me?”
“THEY GOT ET. JOE EXOTIC DONE BRED A LION TO RED WEST, AN’ TH’ RESULTING CREATION WAS A MIGHT PECKISH.”
“None of this makes any sense. It’s like the ramblings of some lonely, stoned loser.”
“YOU A LOT MORE RIGHT TH’N YOU KNOW. BUT WE STILL GONNA NEED SOME MORE SURGEONS.”
“Fuck.”
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