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

Tag: holly bowling (Page 1 of 2)

In Which Phil Meets A Hat

“Psst! Hey, Longshanks!”

“Excuse me, young lady?”

“Not her. Me. Up here.”

“Huge fan.”

“I’m not talking to a goddamned hat.”

“This is your place, right? Could you rustle me up a hoagie?”

“You don’t even have a mouth.”

“I got a huge mouth. I got a sexy mouth.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Stick a hoagie in my huge, sexy mouth, Phil.”

“Hey! Jackass.”

Me?

“Yeah. Listen: if you’re not even gonna try to make any sense, then leave me out of your bullshit.”

I was trying.

“Nah. This is weird and half-assed even for this place. Get your shit together.”

Sorry, Phil.

Planning For The Future

“You married?”

“Not, uh, married. Long-time boyfriend, though.”

“Your hat doesn’t count.”

“A human. I am dating a human male, Phil.”

“Just dating, though?”

“Why are you–”

“I need another grandchild. You and Grahame are gonna make me one.”

“Phil, I–”

“Stand up. Lemme see your hips.”

“Completely inappropriate.”

“Young lady, I’m 80 years old and I’ve had 15 different cancers. Time is running out. I need a grandkid and I need one now.”

“Isn’t Grahame married?”

“Yeah, and I call her Munchhausen.”

“Why?”

“Barren!”

“Jesus.”

“But not you. You’ve got the glow of fertility all over you.”

“Phil, no.”

“I’ll give you my Porsche. Right now. You can drive home tonight in a Porsche. Just let Grahame at your cracker. You won’t even know he’s in there.”

“I don’t want to be having this conversation any more.”

“I didn’t want to do it this way.”

YOINK!

“Hey!”

OLD BASSIST RUNNING AWAY NOISE

“Give me my hat back!”

“You’ll get it back after the rabbit dies!”

Relationships Are Tough

“YOU SEE THIS SHIT?”

Wha? Who is speaking?

“Me!”

Me who?

“Me!”

Oh, hey, Holly Bowling’s Hat.

“She treats me wrong. I can’t take much more of this.”

Settle down, HBH. She’s just wearing a fanciful topper for one night. You know you’re her main squeeze.

“She hits me.”

No, she doesn’t.

“She does. Believe women and hats.”

Holly Bowling does not beat you.

“I’m SO close to using gendered insults on the woman.”

Don’t do that.

“Rhymes with ‘stunt.'”

We all know what word you were talking about. There’s no need for it whatsoever.

“I will not be ignored.”

No one is ignoring you.

“Holly is!”

She’s not.

“Maybe we should go to couples therapy.”

Yeah, maybe.

The Bluebird Of Hattiness

“You believe this woman?”

Who’s speaking?

“Me.”

Ah, fuck. I told you that you couldn’t be a recurring character, Holly Bowling’s Hat.

“And I told you to stick my brim up your ass. Why am I not on the marquee!?”

Why should you be?

“Because I’m part of the act, man!”

You’re not.

“SHE TREATS ME LIKE OATES!”

No one is treating anyone like Oates, Holly Bowling’s Hat. Cool your jets.

“She’s nothing without me. Nothing! She’d fade back into the crowd! There’s plenty of piano-playing hot chicks interpreting jam band classics out there.”

There aren’t. She’s kinda her own niche.

“WE ARE. We’re a team.”

You’re a hat. She’s got, like, a dozen of you.

“I’m gonna eat her brain.”

Don’t talk like that, Holly Bowling’s Hat.

“I can do it.”

I know you can, buddy.

“And I will.”

Sure, sure. What’s really going on, man?

“She let the dog chew on me the other day.”

Aw, honeybear. You need a hug?

“Yeah, okay.”

C’mere.

“WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU AND HOW DID YOU JUST POP INTO EXISTENCE?”

Oh, hi, Holly. I’m TotD. I write this bullshit and I’m here to hug your hat.

“POLICE!”

They’re not coming. Just let me hug your hat. Don’t make this weird.

I’M MAKING THIS WEIRD?”

Bowling, Laughing

Hey, Holly Bowling. Whatcha laughing at?

“My hat just said the funniest thing.”

You two have a very close relationship.

“My hat is my Chewbacca.”

Great analogy. How’s it going with Ghost Light?

“Awesome. We have a whole bunch of gigs this summer. Hitting the festival circuit.”

Say hi to Woody Hayes for me.

“Oh, he’s a sweetheart when he stops soloing. The one you gotta watch out for is Chris Robinson. Luckily, you can smell him coming.”

What does Chris Robinson smell like?

“Exactly the aroma you’d imagine, but times ten. And there’s a citrus top-note.”

Fascinating.

CELL PHONE NOISE

“Is that for me?”

It is.

“Is it someone terrible who’s gonna say terrible things, terribly?”

Yeah.

“I hate you and your little hobby.”

Me, too.

“Get jolly with Holly.”

“Hey, Asparagus Fingers.”

“Who is this?”

“Is Kim Jong-Un. Want hire Holly Bowling. Got job.”

“No. I’m not working for North Korea.”

“Only Korea.”

“It’s wrong and I’m pretty positive that it’s illegal.”

“Is no illegal if cops no see.”

“That’s not how treason works.”

“Treason such ugly word. Is job. You no capitalist, Asparagus Fingers?”

“Why are you calling me that?”

“Fingers long like asparagus. Freaky fingers. No have fingers like that in Only Korea.”

“Please stop.”

“Make Kim Jong-Un feel tense. In good way.”

“Ew.”

“You stick finger up Kim Jong-Un butt, massage nipple from inside.”

“That’s not how the human body works. And: ew.”

“I hire Holly Bowling. Very good money. Big money. Definitely not counterfeit money.”

“No.”

“Is job only you can do.”

“What?”

“Scientists invent Hat Bomb. You sneak into White House.”

“Hanging up now.”

“You have Tom Hamilton number?”

DIAL TONE NOISE EVEN THOUGH PHONES NO LONGER DO THAT

“Leave me out of your downward spiral.”

Maybe.

Jamboo

Hey, Holly Bowling. Whatcha doing?

“Jamming, wearing a panda head.”

It looks unspeakably filthy.

“Sex panda, motherfucker.”

You okay? Usually, you’re far less happy to talk to me.

“Dude, it’s Jam Cruise. Literally everything on this boat has been dosed. Everyone’s been tripping since we left dock.”

That sounds fun.

“There have been several mutinies.”

One would imagine. What kind of stuff they got on this boat?

“It’s unbelievable. There’s an ice skating rink.”

On a cruise ship?

“Yeah. It’s like giving God the finger.”

It is.

“Wave pool.”

Wow.

“Right? Waves inside a ship inside waves. Waveception.”

Sure. Seriously, though: why the panda head?

“Promise you won’t tell anyone?”

Swear.

“I couldn’t find my hat.”

So?

“I don’t have a top part to my skull. It’s like an eight-inch fontanelle.”

Can you see brain?

“Only if the light’s real good. There’s like a yolk-type deal covering it.”

I did not know this about you, Holly Bowling.

“Seriously, don’t tell anyone.”

I promise. No one read this shit.

Bowl, Share

What the fuck?

“Go away,”

Holly.

“Not now.”

Holly.

“Fuck off.”

HOLLLLLLLY!

“Stop stealing jokes from Archer.

What the fuck is Tom wearing?

“I was confused about that myself. It’s almost a robe, and–”

Almost a kimono, but definitely not a coat, yeah yeah. It’s called a toppermost.

“That’s not a real thing.”

It is. Rich people have a whole set of garments that normal folks don’t have access to.

“Tom’s not rich. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be on a fucking Jam Cruise.”

Is that what this is?

“Yup. You know Phil’s restaurant?”

Of course.

“Well, imagine you couldn’t leave for five days and there was a 40% chance of contracting Legionnaire’s Disease.”

Ew.

“And Turkuaz was there.”

Jesus. Y’know, it’s not too late to go back to grad school. What was your hat’s GPA?

“Okay, this was fun, but I’m busy.”

I wanna know where the fuck he got that toppermost.

“I don’t know. The store?”

Holly. Look at that garment. What store would you buy that in?

“Yeah, okay, you have a point.”

This is not good. I just hope–

“WHAT THE FUCK?”

–a certain social media star doesn’t find out. Heeeeeey, buddy.

“Dude, I’m steaming. Why does Brad Whitford–”

Tom Hamilton.

“–have one of my toppermosts!? He’s not even supposed to know they exist, let alone be wearing one.”

Got me.

“You know how much that cost?”

Too much?

“Waaaaay too fucking much. That’s a handcrafted piece by Sushi Sashimi.”

Not a real Japanese name.

“He’s not even wearing it right!”

How so?

“He’s fucking poor!”

John, this is an ugly side of you.

“Dude, I don’t have an ugly side. I mean, my right profile is slightly more handsome, but–”

Focus.

“I am so pissed off. What the fuck is going on here, anyway? Who’s the chick in the hat?”

The very talented Holly Bowling. And this is the Jam Cruise.

“I don’t know what a ‘Jam Cruise’ is, and I refuse to learn.”

Good decision.

“Does that guy have his dick out?”

Tom? I hope not. Unless it’s part of the improv. Keith Jarrett used to do that if someone coughed.

“No, not Tim.”

Tom.

“Don’t care. Not him. The guy on the left in the yellow shirt.”

Oh.

“It can’t be.”

If it is, good for him.

“Is this what people do on the Jam Cruise? Wear hats and take their dicks out?”

Pretty much.

“Trump’s gonna win in 2020.”

Probably.

Workin’ In A House Of Ghost Light

I’m glad to see you followed my advice, Holly Bowling.

“Oh, not you again.”

You joined a band! Good job: you can only play with yourself for so long.

“Don’t be weird or I’m getting our Parish.”

You already have a Parish?

“We’re serious about this, man.”

Nice. The name is Ghost Light?

“Yeah! You like it?”

Tough to say after a couple drinks.

“True.”

Introduce the band, Holly. Next to you is DJ Scarfmaster.

“Tom Hamilton.”

Noooo. Tom Hamilton is an ugly blond from Boston.

“Different people can have the same name.”

You’re blowing my mind, Bowling. Next to him is Young Jeff Chimenti.

“Steve Lyons.”

What does he play?

“Bass.”

Yeah, I can see that.

“Right? He just looks like the bass player.”

Who is Lady Jay Leno?

“Who?”

Debbie Denim.

“Ah. That’s Raina Mullen.”

She’s killing you in the shoe game.

“Not what this is about.”

You should catfight her.

“Don’t do that.”

You’re probably right. Who’s the guy–

Holly?

“Mm-hmm?”

What is your drummer wearing?

“Huh. Not sure what you’d call it. It’s almost a robe. Kind of a kimono.”

But definitely not a coat.

“I was just about to say that.”

Holly?

“Mm-hmm?”

Who’s managing your band?

“Oh, you know who it is.”

I do. Get out here!

“Hey, buddy.”

Benjy, what the fuck?

“Why am I coming out of an interdimensional dryer?”

No, I don’t care about that. Are you stealing John Mayer’s toppermosts?

“Yes.”

Why?

“Money and spite.”

Those are pretty good reasons, actually. Why do you need money? I thought you had John’s power of attorney in that contract you made him sign.

“I did! That contract was ironclad.”

So?

“It turns out iron is not the strongest substance you can make a contract out of. His lawyers are made from titanium-carbon alloys and tipped with diamonds. They went through that contract like toilet paper. And not the good kind. Gas station toilet paper.”

Makes sense.

“So I raided his wardrobe mansion before I left.”

What’s a wardrobe mansion?

“He bought a house for his clothes.”

Of course he did.

“It’s nice in there. There’s a whole trouser wing.”

Sure. And you got away with some toppermosts?

“Yup. And I’m giving ’em out! I’m like Robin Hood, but you shouldn’t give me a bow-and-arrow.”

Why not?

“Trust me.”

Okay. This is great, actually. Holly Bowling and Benjy Eisen back together again.

“2018 is gonna be the Year of People Who Love Very Specific Hats.”

I’m glad.

“The blonde chick’s kinda stealing my look, though.”

She is.

 

Bowling With The Homies

Hey, Holly Bowling. Whatcha doing?

“Me? You have to bother me?”

Phil yells at me, Bobby has too much crap in his sweatpants, and Jim James kinda scares me a little.

“What about Ross James?”

The whole James family scares me. Beardos.

“Great.”

So, how you doing? I see you brought your hat.

“Leave the hat alone.”

Does it have a road case?

“Please stop talking to me. I’m concentrating.”

What are you playing?

“Dark Star.”

It’s just a jam in D minor.

“Please don’t say–”

The saddest of all keys.

“–the saddest…you’re so original.”

How’s that all-girl jam band coming together?

“It’s not. I’m very happy with my career, and I don’t need advice from you. Holy shit, do I not need advice from you.”

Oh, no. You’re right. I give terrible advice. You need a manager.

“I have a–”

CELL PHONE NOISE

“Where is that coming from? Bobby’s sweatpants?”

He really does have a lot of junk in there.

CELL PHONE NOISE

“I left my phone backstage.”

Check your hat.

“Stop making fun of my hat.”

I’m celebrating it. Check under your hat.”

“Yup. Phone.”

Told you.”

“You’re rolling with Bowling.”

“Great phone greeting, Holl. Perfect.”

“I know this rasp.”

“Holly, it’s Benjy Eisen in a chipmunk costume.”

“Where’d you get a chipmunk costume?”

“Stole it from Brent.”

“Why are you in a chipmunk costume?”

“Don’t worry about the chipmunk costume. This is not about the chipmunk costume. You’d look great in a chipmunk costume.”

“What do you want, Benjy?”

“I wanna take your career to the next level.”

“No, thank you.”

“Listen to my idea first.”

“What?”

“Jam-themed holiday album.”

“No.”

“It’s called Have A Holly, Holly Christmas.”

“Nooooooo.”

“What if I told you I could get you a sponsor?”

“A sponsor?”

“Absolutely. How do you feel about wearing a chipmunk costume onstage?”

“I’m hanging up.”

“Is Billy there?”

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

“Can you leave me out of your little make-em-ups, please?”

I promise nothing, Holly Bowling.

“You suck.”

Do you consider your last name to be more of a gerund or a participle?

Holly?

Holly?

“HEY!”

Oh, hi, Phil.

“Fuck off!”

Your hair looks great.

“I know. Fuck off.”

Okay.

Bowling For Rubles

Hey, Holly Bowling. Whatcha doing?

“Ohhhhh, shit. They told me about you.”

Who?

“Everyone. Phil, Bobby, Soup.”

You know Soup?

“I found him living in my hat.”

You love that hat.

“I want no part of this.”

Not even if I plug your new album Better Left Unsung, available as two CD’s or three vinyl LPs?

“Eh.”

What about plugging your upcoming tour? Which I notice does not come to South Florida.

“I can’t go to Florida.”

Warrants?

“Warrants.”

I hear you.

“I’m gonna pass on this. It was sweet to include me in your ravings without my permission, but I’m gonna pass.”

Sorry to hear that.

CELL PHONE NOISE.

“Is that you?”

No.

“I left my phone backstage.”

Check your hat.

“How the hell did it get in there?”

Got me.

“Weird.”

Yeah.

“You’re rolling with Bowling.”

“Why you no have band?”

“Who is this?”

“Is Putin.”

“I don’t want to join the Flaming Groovies.”

“If I did not think you were also immortal, I would have you blowdarted, too.”

“What?”

“Nothing. You get band. Big hit. All-lady jam band.”

“Sounds a little gimmicky.”

“Ve call band Doobies & Boobies.”

“Pass.”

“Putin manage. You vill be big stars. I promise.”

“I cannot pass hard enough.”

CALL WAITING NOISE

“That’s me. I’m not coming back.”

“Putin find you, Holy Piano.”

“Goodbye.”

“I steal your hat.”

“GoodBYE!”

“Hello?”

“Holly? Was that Putin?”

“Yes!”

“The one from–”

“Not the one from the Flaming Groovies.”

“–the Flam…okay, just checking.”

“Wait. Who is this?”

“It’s Benjy Eisen. I’m calling on behalf of Elvis.”

“THAT SQUIRRELY LI’L COMMIE MAKIN’ INCURSIONS?”

“Yeah, King! It was him!”

“DAMN, MAN. AH HAVE BEEN CLEAR IN MAH WARNINGS.”

“You totally were, King. Can we Cadillac Holly?”

“CONSIDER IT DONE.”

“Nice! Holly?”

“Yeah?”

“You just got Cadillac’d!”

“What the fuck is going on?”

“It’s complicated. Putin’s been making incursions into the universe we occupy, so Elvis Presley has been fighting him using the awesome power of a fully-operational Time Cape.”

“AN’ KARATE!”

“And karate. Holly, lemme ask you something.”

“Okay.”

“Why don’t you have a band?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

“I got an idea: all-lady jam band. I even got a name.”

“Doobies & Boobies?”

“How’d you guess!?”

DIAL TONE EVEN THOUGH PHONES DO NOT DO THAT ANY MORE

“Hey!”

“HEY!”

Me?

“Yes! What the FUCK is going on?”

Holly, are you familiar with the concept of semi-fictionality?

“No. No, I’m not. Mostly because that isn’t a concept.”

Oh, anything’s a concept if you can conceive of it.

“I’m calling my lawyer.”

You shouldn’t.

“Why not?”

The person who picks up is not going to be your lawyer.

“Why?”

Because she was eaten by komodo dragons this morning.

INCOMING TEXT NOISE

“Oh my God, my lawyer was eaten by komodo dragons this morning.”

Told you.

“Did you do that?”

Kinda.

“Why!?”

Couldn’t think up a punchline for the post.

“You’re a hack.”

I know.

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