CHRISTMAS: THE POEM
By Mark J. Hansen
‘Twas the poem for Christmas and all through the stanzas
Were the megawatt charms of six billion Tony Danzas.
There were chestnuts a-roasting and fires a-open,
Santa was Clausing and the Pope was a-popin’.
The eight tiny reindeer, including Donner and Blitzen
Enjoyed dinner on Santa, no check needed splitzen.
And sugar plums danced in the heads of the young,
Rhythmic food dreams that confounded even Karl Jung.
Nice children had no fear of being inspected
But Gregor Samsa awoke to find himself insected.
An airborne sleigh was driven by old Kris Kringle
With dollies and trains and an anteater for Aram Fingle.
And snow everywhere was falling to Earth,
Except in San Tropez, Chile, Johannesburg and Perth.
Jesus returned, patting everyone’s backs
With a novelty t-shirt that said, “Frankincense Relax.”
The Nutcracker Suite employed many a ballerina,
Whilst Bea Arthur was employed by Mos Eisley Cantina.
Frosty found magic in an old silk hat,
And Louis Armstrong found magic in skibbity-scat.
And Santa spoke up, imploring all to be merry
Being nice is the nicest; it’s hip to be squarey.
And I heard him exclaim from his lips, tongue and jaw,
“Fa la la la la la la la la.”
Monday, December 21, 2009
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
THE GREATEST SCREENPLAY I HAVE EVER WRITTEN SO FAR!
JAMES BOND IN: JAMES BOND, SUPER-007 SPY
A screenplay by Atomic-Smash Hansen
Copyright: 2009 Atomic-Smash Hansen Starship Enterprises
James Bond Copyright: James Bond, 1960s.
PROLOGUE: Ninja-type dudes are sneaking into the White House to steal the h-bomb in the Lincoln bedroom. The first one walks like a shadow to avoid being seen as a person. The second crawls around like a kitty-cat. The third forgot to show up. Oops!
Suddenly, just as they open the door to the Oval Office, a person is heard to be clearing their throat. It is James Bond, and he has a bone to pick with these two ruffians! A gun bone!
JAMES
Stop in the name of James Bond, boys!
But the two ninjas take off their masks, to reveal they are ladies! Then they take off their clothes to reveal they are naked ladies!
JAMES
This just got very interesting. Ladies, it’s Miller time.
He shoots them. Opening credits! A lot of silhouettes jump and swim and shoot and do push ups and blend together. One is an Indian with a bow and arrow pointing at a star, if you send him in, you win! Opening theme song: James Bond, the super of spies! James Bond, the seer of eyes! James Bond eats only American pie! James Bond is tongue-kissing the sky! James Bond, he lies when cries! No, wait, that’s Joe. No, wait, that’s Jooooooooe!
FADE IN: James Bond’s house. He is just waking from his alarm clock. He shoots it off. Then he rolls over and kisses the naked girl in bed next to him. She is blonde and wears nothing!
JAMES
Morning, stranger.
LADY
Oh, James, you are such a laugh riot. And a sexual riot as well. Growl!
JAMES
I appreciate the compliment. Except that I’m serious. Who are you?
Blonde lady makes a sad face. James shrugs.
CUT TO: James Bond in his car, a spied-out El Camino flying down the interstate at top speed. He is in a tuxedo, and he is combing his hair. He checks himself out in the rearview mirror and smiles. Suddenly the car falls through the ground, and the hole it fell through closes up with the trap door. We see James and the car float safely to the floor of the secret hideout. Scientists are testing guns and flamethrowers and crossbows. M walks over to the car.
M
Confound it all, James! I hate your ways! You are such a rogue, a scoundrel and rapscallion and yet you get results! Humbug!
JAMES
You’re just jealous, M. Don’t even try to deny it, I have super-human powers of detection. I know you wanna be me.
M
You’re right you know, old bean. Quite right, pip pip. Here.
M hands James Bond a martini which James drinks.
JAMES
Ah! The freshmaker!
M
Would you cut that out???? Enough horseplay, Bond. Well more than enough. We have very important business, James Bond. The business of world domination. We have a very important assignment for you, perhaps the most important of 50 year career to date.
JAMES
Ah yes, the dastardly King Krupta of Sylvetica has a space satellite all set to beam a laser ray at the White House. If he succeeds at blowing up our nation’s capital White House, he will then proceed to take over the world… and everyone in it.
M
By jingo, how the deuce do you do it, you?
JAMES
I don’t know, either. I’m that good, you see.
M
Well, then you won’t be needing these rocket shoes Q designed for you. Or this Secret Shooter Pen. Or these bulletproof cufflinks.
JAMES
I stand corrected, M. Touché. As the mystery girl in bed would say, touché all over.
M
Oh, James, you are incorrigible. No one could corrigible you.
CUT TO: James Bond in a plane. He is tuxedoed out and seatbelted in. He’s also the only one on the plane, which is scary and mysterious, but James Bond does not care about that, he is way too cool. The Pilot puts the plane on Auto-Pilot instead of People-Pilot and approaches him.
PILOT
How would you like your martini, Mr. Bond?
JAMES
Shaken, please.
PILOT
You asked for it!
The Pilot runs to the cockpit and switches the plane back to People-Pilot- Evil People-Pilot. Laughing like a maniac, maniac on the floor, he grabs the plane’s steering wheel and flips it over and over and does an upside-down roll with the plane. James hits the ceiling.
JAMES
Nice try, villain!
James removes his shooter pen and shoots the pilot. Then he runs and takes over the plane, aiming it at a castle. He grabs a parachute and jumps out the window as the plane collides with the castle, both bursting into flames with a tremendous and flaming explosion! James floats downward.
JAMES
I guess I really gave that castle a blow job- a blow UP job!
CUT TO: An office, huge! It’s got a huge desk and super comfy desk chair and taxidermied bears and pigs and frogs and chickens and things. Also he has a huge globe which is a bar in secret. The big picture window overlooks the castle which just blew up. King Krupta is watching this in anger and amazement. Nutjob enters, a tall football playery lackey.
NUTJOB
Sir, your castle just blew up.
KRUPTA
I know that Nutjob! Only one man has the audacity of hope to do such a deed to my very own castle, and that man is Bond.
NUTJOB
James Bond?
KRUPTA
And who else then? Yes! Nutjob, you must kill him before it’s too late and we’re all dead. Do it!
Nutjob runs out of the office. Krupta shakes his fist at the window in anger and amazement. Also he has a huge globe which is a bar in secret.
KRUPTA
I will have you, James Bond. And you will die from me. And then, all the pieces will, how you say, fall into place. Ha ha ha ha! Ho! But first, the dance party in my honor.
CUT TO: James Bond at a fancy party, dancing up a sexy girl. She wears a sequin gown and hoop earrings. He’s in a new tux. Brand spanking new.
GIRL
Suave, sir, very suave.
JAMES
Suave is my middle initial.
GIRL
I have a secret to share with you.
She leans over to whisper in his ear and winks. POV: James’s ear as the girl’s eyelid winks.
JAMES
I heard that wink, sexy.
GIRL
But- you are amazing!
JAMES
You think that’s amazing? Check this out!
JAMES executes fancy footwork, sliding, flipping and somersaulting, baby-swiping and popping as well as locking. A slow-clap off-screen comes from King Krupta.
KRUPTA
So you think you can dance, Mr….
JAMES
James. Bond. James Bond.
KRUPTA
WHAT!!! KILL HIM!!
Fast fighting music! The guards whip out their guns and shoot at James. James pulls out his scat-gun! Skiddily-pow! Skiddily-blam! Skiddily-poop! Wait, not that kind of scat-gun. Nutjob pulls out a spear and flings it at James, who deftly sidesteps it. He somersaults to the wall and hits a button dramatically. The floor opens up in the middle and there’s a swimming pool underneath. The guards fall into the pool, drowning. The sexy girl does too and James jumps in after her, with a scuba mask on. Jimmy Stewart doesn’t notice until, whoops, too late. Nutjob escapes with King Krupta through the back door, the fire exit alarm goes off.
NUTJOB
I’ll get you next time, Bond! When you least expect it, I’ll snare you like a drum- a bass drum!
KRUPTA
How you say, retreat!
GIRL
What happened to my clothes?
JAMES
I did.
He reveals he has her entire dress in the palm of his hand. She gasps seductively. They kiss each other with a fierce passion. FADE TO James Bond’s hotel room. He is lounging in a robe while the girl eats a chicken breast and mashed potatoes and a biscuit with gravy.
GIRL
Thank you I was so hungry for the food. It tastes so good to eat!
JAMES
What’s your name by the way?
GIRL
Casper. Casper the Friendly Spy.
JAMES
Spy?
CASPER pulls out a laser gun and shoots at JAMES, who deflects the shots with his bulletproof cufflinks. The laser beams bounce back and blow up her corn bread. Literally!
CASPER
No!
JAMES
It appears the links have it.
He rushes to tackle her, arms outstretched like Frankenstein the Monster, but she shoots him and he is hit. James crumples to the ground in sadness and unconsciousness. Casper picks up the hotel phone and dials a phone number.
CASPER
The eagle has landed, and was shot.
CUT TO: Krupta in his office, with Nutjob. Also he has a huge globe which is a bar in secret.
KRUPTA
Good, good, how you say, good. At last, the world will all be all mine! Ha! Ho!
NUTJOB
So, James is dead?
KRUPTA
No, not yet.
NUTJOB
What? Why?
KRUPTA
Because (he shoots Nutjob.) DON’T QUESTION ME, THAT’S WHY! Now I will kill him more elaborately, in the most fitting way imaginable. Yes! Rub hands together. Oops, that’s a stage direction. Also I have a huge globe which is a bar in secret.
CUT TO: James Bond waking up, slowly, surely, and slowly. He discovers he is hanging upside down over the Grand Canyon, his legs tied by a strong rope knotted Windsor-style, and his hands are tied behind his back, Loser-style. Pause for the awesomeness of that pun.
KRUPTA
So, at last we meet, Mr. James Bond. I can see why you are so popular. All the blood, it rushes, how you say, to your head.
JAMES
I guess it’s true what they say, the head is bloody terrific!
KRUPTA
Silence!
CASPER
Even upside down, he keeps his cool. But I am the femme that fataled the great Bond.
JAMES
You were great baby, just keen. Shmoopy to the max. Except for the laser shoot-out, I rocked your spy world.
KRUPTA
SILENCE NOW! I am about to drop you to your death down your precious Grand Canyon, Mr. Bond. Then I shall rule the, how you say, world. And no one can stop me! Ha ha ha! Ho!
JAMES
You’ll never get away with it, King Krupta!
KRUPTA
A-ha, but that is where you are wrong!
JAMES
Am I? I think-
JAMES frees himself by wriggling his feet free of the rope, falling. There is a long pause where everybody thinks he is dead and splattered. Krupta and Casper look from each other to the Grand Canyon and back again like fifty times. At no point is there a huge globe which is a bar in secret. Then James Bond makes a rollicking knockout comeback, his rocket shoes make him fly back up and he punches King Krupta in the face.
JAMES
Not!
KING KRUPTA
Zut alors! The cops!
And the police arrive and handcuff King Krupta and Casper.
CASPER
Oh, James! I was only kidding before! I’m not a bad guy. Please make me orgasm in sex again. James! James! We had a good thing, James.
JAMES
Not good enough, Casper. Not good enough. Not good enough, Casper.
The police take everyone away. M walks over to the still-floating James Bond.
M
I don’t know how you do it, James, or why. But I love you for it. There. I said it. I’m not taking it back. I love you. I said it again. I love you thrice! I said it yet again.
JAMES
I wish you hadn’t. It makes me feel ooky and wrong. M, no one likes you, least of all me. But, I suppose we can get married.
They both laugh. CUT TO: the credits, showing James Bond doing all sorts of exciting stunts, like leaping head first through a flaming hoop, skiing down a gorgeous mountain, sticking his head in a lion’s mouth, and kissing a naked woman. The Love Theme plays over the credits: Oh James Bond, you are a super spy who loved me. Nobody does it better and you know I don’t mean the spy part. Hey, James Bond you’re shoelaces are untie-ed. Ha, ha, made you look I can’t believe you fell for it.
After the credits, CUT TO the lake of lava. Skeletor pops up and menacingly declares, “I’ll be back!”
THE END
A screenplay by Atomic-Smash Hansen
Copyright: 2009 Atomic-Smash Hansen Starship Enterprises
James Bond Copyright: James Bond, 1960s.
PROLOGUE: Ninja-type dudes are sneaking into the White House to steal the h-bomb in the Lincoln bedroom. The first one walks like a shadow to avoid being seen as a person. The second crawls around like a kitty-cat. The third forgot to show up. Oops!
Suddenly, just as they open the door to the Oval Office, a person is heard to be clearing their throat. It is James Bond, and he has a bone to pick with these two ruffians! A gun bone!
JAMES
Stop in the name of James Bond, boys!
But the two ninjas take off their masks, to reveal they are ladies! Then they take off their clothes to reveal they are naked ladies!
JAMES
This just got very interesting. Ladies, it’s Miller time.
He shoots them. Opening credits! A lot of silhouettes jump and swim and shoot and do push ups and blend together. One is an Indian with a bow and arrow pointing at a star, if you send him in, you win! Opening theme song: James Bond, the super of spies! James Bond, the seer of eyes! James Bond eats only American pie! James Bond is tongue-kissing the sky! James Bond, he lies when cries! No, wait, that’s Joe. No, wait, that’s Jooooooooe!
FADE IN: James Bond’s house. He is just waking from his alarm clock. He shoots it off. Then he rolls over and kisses the naked girl in bed next to him. She is blonde and wears nothing!
JAMES
Morning, stranger.
LADY
Oh, James, you are such a laugh riot. And a sexual riot as well. Growl!
JAMES
I appreciate the compliment. Except that I’m serious. Who are you?
Blonde lady makes a sad face. James shrugs.
CUT TO: James Bond in his car, a spied-out El Camino flying down the interstate at top speed. He is in a tuxedo, and he is combing his hair. He checks himself out in the rearview mirror and smiles. Suddenly the car falls through the ground, and the hole it fell through closes up with the trap door. We see James and the car float safely to the floor of the secret hideout. Scientists are testing guns and flamethrowers and crossbows. M walks over to the car.
M
Confound it all, James! I hate your ways! You are such a rogue, a scoundrel and rapscallion and yet you get results! Humbug!
JAMES
You’re just jealous, M. Don’t even try to deny it, I have super-human powers of detection. I know you wanna be me.
M
You’re right you know, old bean. Quite right, pip pip. Here.
M hands James Bond a martini which James drinks.
JAMES
Ah! The freshmaker!
M
Would you cut that out???? Enough horseplay, Bond. Well more than enough. We have very important business, James Bond. The business of world domination. We have a very important assignment for you, perhaps the most important of 50 year career to date.
JAMES
Ah yes, the dastardly King Krupta of Sylvetica has a space satellite all set to beam a laser ray at the White House. If he succeeds at blowing up our nation’s capital White House, he will then proceed to take over the world… and everyone in it.
M
By jingo, how the deuce do you do it, you?
JAMES
I don’t know, either. I’m that good, you see.
M
Well, then you won’t be needing these rocket shoes Q designed for you. Or this Secret Shooter Pen. Or these bulletproof cufflinks.
JAMES
I stand corrected, M. Touché. As the mystery girl in bed would say, touché all over.
M
Oh, James, you are incorrigible. No one could corrigible you.
CUT TO: James Bond in a plane. He is tuxedoed out and seatbelted in. He’s also the only one on the plane, which is scary and mysterious, but James Bond does not care about that, he is way too cool. The Pilot puts the plane on Auto-Pilot instead of People-Pilot and approaches him.
PILOT
How would you like your martini, Mr. Bond?
JAMES
Shaken, please.
PILOT
You asked for it!
The Pilot runs to the cockpit and switches the plane back to People-Pilot- Evil People-Pilot. Laughing like a maniac, maniac on the floor, he grabs the plane’s steering wheel and flips it over and over and does an upside-down roll with the plane. James hits the ceiling.
JAMES
Nice try, villain!
James removes his shooter pen and shoots the pilot. Then he runs and takes over the plane, aiming it at a castle. He grabs a parachute and jumps out the window as the plane collides with the castle, both bursting into flames with a tremendous and flaming explosion! James floats downward.
JAMES
I guess I really gave that castle a blow job- a blow UP job!
CUT TO: An office, huge! It’s got a huge desk and super comfy desk chair and taxidermied bears and pigs and frogs and chickens and things. Also he has a huge globe which is a bar in secret. The big picture window overlooks the castle which just blew up. King Krupta is watching this in anger and amazement. Nutjob enters, a tall football playery lackey.
NUTJOB
Sir, your castle just blew up.
KRUPTA
I know that Nutjob! Only one man has the audacity of hope to do such a deed to my very own castle, and that man is Bond.
NUTJOB
James Bond?
KRUPTA
And who else then? Yes! Nutjob, you must kill him before it’s too late and we’re all dead. Do it!
Nutjob runs out of the office. Krupta shakes his fist at the window in anger and amazement. Also he has a huge globe which is a bar in secret.
KRUPTA
I will have you, James Bond. And you will die from me. And then, all the pieces will, how you say, fall into place. Ha ha ha ha! Ho! But first, the dance party in my honor.
CUT TO: James Bond at a fancy party, dancing up a sexy girl. She wears a sequin gown and hoop earrings. He’s in a new tux. Brand spanking new.
GIRL
Suave, sir, very suave.
JAMES
Suave is my middle initial.
GIRL
I have a secret to share with you.
She leans over to whisper in his ear and winks. POV: James’s ear as the girl’s eyelid winks.
JAMES
I heard that wink, sexy.
GIRL
But- you are amazing!
JAMES
You think that’s amazing? Check this out!
JAMES executes fancy footwork, sliding, flipping and somersaulting, baby-swiping and popping as well as locking. A slow-clap off-screen comes from King Krupta.
KRUPTA
So you think you can dance, Mr….
JAMES
James. Bond. James Bond.
KRUPTA
WHAT!!! KILL HIM!!
Fast fighting music! The guards whip out their guns and shoot at James. James pulls out his scat-gun! Skiddily-pow! Skiddily-blam! Skiddily-poop! Wait, not that kind of scat-gun. Nutjob pulls out a spear and flings it at James, who deftly sidesteps it. He somersaults to the wall and hits a button dramatically. The floor opens up in the middle and there’s a swimming pool underneath. The guards fall into the pool, drowning. The sexy girl does too and James jumps in after her, with a scuba mask on. Jimmy Stewart doesn’t notice until, whoops, too late. Nutjob escapes with King Krupta through the back door, the fire exit alarm goes off.
NUTJOB
I’ll get you next time, Bond! When you least expect it, I’ll snare you like a drum- a bass drum!
KRUPTA
How you say, retreat!
GIRL
What happened to my clothes?
JAMES
I did.
He reveals he has her entire dress in the palm of his hand. She gasps seductively. They kiss each other with a fierce passion. FADE TO James Bond’s hotel room. He is lounging in a robe while the girl eats a chicken breast and mashed potatoes and a biscuit with gravy.
GIRL
Thank you I was so hungry for the food. It tastes so good to eat!
JAMES
What’s your name by the way?
GIRL
Casper. Casper the Friendly Spy.
JAMES
Spy?
CASPER pulls out a laser gun and shoots at JAMES, who deflects the shots with his bulletproof cufflinks. The laser beams bounce back and blow up her corn bread. Literally!
CASPER
No!
JAMES
It appears the links have it.
He rushes to tackle her, arms outstretched like Frankenstein the Monster, but she shoots him and he is hit. James crumples to the ground in sadness and unconsciousness. Casper picks up the hotel phone and dials a phone number.
CASPER
The eagle has landed, and was shot.
CUT TO: Krupta in his office, with Nutjob. Also he has a huge globe which is a bar in secret.
KRUPTA
Good, good, how you say, good. At last, the world will all be all mine! Ha! Ho!
NUTJOB
So, James is dead?
KRUPTA
No, not yet.
NUTJOB
What? Why?
KRUPTA
Because (he shoots Nutjob.) DON’T QUESTION ME, THAT’S WHY! Now I will kill him more elaborately, in the most fitting way imaginable. Yes! Rub hands together. Oops, that’s a stage direction. Also I have a huge globe which is a bar in secret.
CUT TO: James Bond waking up, slowly, surely, and slowly. He discovers he is hanging upside down over the Grand Canyon, his legs tied by a strong rope knotted Windsor-style, and his hands are tied behind his back, Loser-style. Pause for the awesomeness of that pun.
KRUPTA
So, at last we meet, Mr. James Bond. I can see why you are so popular. All the blood, it rushes, how you say, to your head.
JAMES
I guess it’s true what they say, the head is bloody terrific!
KRUPTA
Silence!
CASPER
Even upside down, he keeps his cool. But I am the femme that fataled the great Bond.
JAMES
You were great baby, just keen. Shmoopy to the max. Except for the laser shoot-out, I rocked your spy world.
KRUPTA
SILENCE NOW! I am about to drop you to your death down your precious Grand Canyon, Mr. Bond. Then I shall rule the, how you say, world. And no one can stop me! Ha ha ha! Ho!
JAMES
You’ll never get away with it, King Krupta!
KRUPTA
A-ha, but that is where you are wrong!
JAMES
Am I? I think-
JAMES frees himself by wriggling his feet free of the rope, falling. There is a long pause where everybody thinks he is dead and splattered. Krupta and Casper look from each other to the Grand Canyon and back again like fifty times. At no point is there a huge globe which is a bar in secret. Then James Bond makes a rollicking knockout comeback, his rocket shoes make him fly back up and he punches King Krupta in the face.
JAMES
Not!
KING KRUPTA
Zut alors! The cops!
And the police arrive and handcuff King Krupta and Casper.
CASPER
Oh, James! I was only kidding before! I’m not a bad guy. Please make me orgasm in sex again. James! James! We had a good thing, James.
JAMES
Not good enough, Casper. Not good enough. Not good enough, Casper.
The police take everyone away. M walks over to the still-floating James Bond.
M
I don’t know how you do it, James, or why. But I love you for it. There. I said it. I’m not taking it back. I love you. I said it again. I love you thrice! I said it yet again.
JAMES
I wish you hadn’t. It makes me feel ooky and wrong. M, no one likes you, least of all me. But, I suppose we can get married.
They both laugh. CUT TO: the credits, showing James Bond doing all sorts of exciting stunts, like leaping head first through a flaming hoop, skiing down a gorgeous mountain, sticking his head in a lion’s mouth, and kissing a naked woman. The Love Theme plays over the credits: Oh James Bond, you are a super spy who loved me. Nobody does it better and you know I don’t mean the spy part. Hey, James Bond you’re shoelaces are untie-ed. Ha, ha, made you look I can’t believe you fell for it.
After the credits, CUT TO the lake of lava. Skeletor pops up and menacingly declares, “I’ll be back!”
THE END
Monday, November 30, 2009
WE GO TOGETHER LIKE-
Horse shoes & hand grenades
Water & hangovers
Birds & tree branches
Led Zeppelin & Lord of the Rings
Jerry Lewis & Muscular Dystrophy
Cereal & the rest of a balanced breakfast
Army men & dark green hats
This American Life & slight speech impediments
Semi-colons & run-on sentences
The internet & ladies who like to take their clothes off
Ice & rapper names
Panty hose & bank robbers
Batman & movies about Batman
Moustaches & cowboys
People & places
Water & hangovers
Birds & tree branches
Led Zeppelin & Lord of the Rings
Jerry Lewis & Muscular Dystrophy
Cereal & the rest of a balanced breakfast
Army men & dark green hats
This American Life & slight speech impediments
Semi-colons & run-on sentences
The internet & ladies who like to take their clothes off
Ice & rapper names
Panty hose & bank robbers
Batman & movies about Batman
Moustaches & cowboys
People & places
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
TWO! TWO! TWO ITEMS OF NOTE!
First, the site will be relatively quiet for some time, as I will be participating in National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo to those in the know) so your homework is to read and re-read the pterodactyl play and leave your positive feedback daily.
Second, we here at False Moustache have recently been made aware of a different blog, which is exceedingly similar to this one, with someone very similar to the entity of me, with a similar name, Cotton Candy Beard. The difference: this is a Wordpress blog, and it's for kids. Give it a look and see if you agree:
http://cottoncandybeard.wordpress.com/
Second, we here at False Moustache have recently been made aware of a different blog, which is exceedingly similar to this one, with someone very similar to the entity of me, with a similar name, Cotton Candy Beard. The difference: this is a Wordpress blog, and it's for kids. Give it a look and see if you agree:
http://cottoncandybeard.wordpress.com/
Friday, October 23, 2009
10. THE ANCHORWOMAN SUMS IT ALL UP
(Anchorwoman once again is seated at her desk.)
Good evening, I’m Sonya Pseudonym, but not really. Now the 6:17 News Special Report. Have you noticed a calmness, a quiet, a lack of utter fear and sheer terror in your neighborhood? That’s right, those pesky pterodactyls, the sweet potatoes of the sky, have vanished mysteriously. It ended as it began, full of intrigue, uncertainty and doughnuts. The intrigue? What has happened to the pterodactyls? The uncertainty? Will they be returning anytime soon? The doughnuts? My breakfast.
The mood in our fair city is as if Paula Cole had actually asked the musical question, “Where have all the pterodactyls gone?” Dr. Freud could not be reached for comment, but one of his lab assistants, a Frank or Larry, did relay this information. If you are the residents of any neighboring city and you do come across the dinosaurs, do not provoke them, use soft, soothing tones. No name-calling. And hide any and all jam from sight. He then thanked me for the call, and promised to call later. Sources close to my heart report he has yet to do so, and cause me to question the validity of anything he says.
But such is the nature of this enigmatic experiment. Nothing is as it seems. What you think is a genuine turtleneck sweater turns out to be a mock turtleneck sweater. What you believe to be butter is in fact Butter It’s Not. That smell you notice certainly seems to be Giorgio, but then it’s revealed to be Primo. It’s much like an elaborate game of Guess Who, except the game cards do actually talk. What they say doesn’t clarify so much as not clarify, however, and we are left back at square one.
I know what’s on everyone’s mind, and that is what is it that I personally think the future holds for us. I think science will forge onward and upward, cloning and reanimating and leaving us all behind, without so much as a text message. But what will be next, you ask? Brontosaurs? Triceratopses? Canadian reggae sensation Snow? Your guess is only slightly less good as mine. But, I am certain we will not be hearing from the science world again for a very, very, very, very long time. And when we do, one hopes it will be a heartfelt apology. I’m Sonya Pseudonym, thanks for checking me out.
-fin-
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
9. THE PTERODACTYL LEAVES THE FOLD
(Shecky Pterosaur sits at a desk, composing a letter to his brother pterodactyls.)
Dear Stink-odactyls: Just kidding. Anyway, I’m writing this letter to inform you porcupine racetracks that, as of today I’m leaving you all in the dust! I’ve been mulling it over in my brain the size of a pea and I’ve decided that I can’t live the normal pterodactyl life anymore. I’m through with the pillaging, destroying and lifting of things in my talons. I need to pursue my lifelong dream, which we all know is to move to Vegas and become an insult comic. You googly-eyed goofballs are aware of my formidable skills at knocking folks down a few pegs verbally, and I think it’s time I shared my put-downs with the public.
Ever since I was reanimated, I’ve been studying the great insult comics, all of them. Groucho Marx, Don Rickles, Jacky Mason, they all helped me find my new purpose, and it’s opened my eyes and ears like water to a duck. And speaking of ducks (makes a fart noise with his hand/talon.) That probably doesn’t translate well to the page, but I just made a fart noise. I know Philo is cracking up at that one. See, this is how I roll, fellas. No holds barred, no bars held. I gotta be me, right? No one can stifle old Shecky Pterosaur no more. To all those folks who don’t get me, or think I’m too in your face with the put-downs and the truth bombs, just what the H-E double hockey pucks is wrong with you, ya nimrods! You gotta be duller than a marching band not to get what I’m saying, am I right? What are you, John Philip Snooze-a?
I know what some of you might be thinking. Isn’t cracking wise with the guys enough for you? But you’re thinking too small, which is admittedly understandable, considering the size of our brains, and don’t we have one in our butts, too? That’s just trouble waiting to happen right there. Wait, I just had a thought (makes another fart noise.) You’re welcome, Philo. But seriously, now and all kidding aside, I’ve got big plans for little old me. Of course I’d start small, like the Catskills, or maybe even smaller, the Kittenskills. I’d hit the late-night shows and work my way to Vegas, where my act might include a couple of songs. “I Gotta Be Me,” obviously, and maybe that pterodactyl classic, (screeches.) Though that may confuse non-Spanish speaking audiences. This will inevitably lead to my sitcom, “Winged Assault,” where I insult my family, neighbors and co-workers, and introduce the world to my infamous catchphrase, “What are you looking at, dicknose?” After a healthy ten-year run, I’ll retire the show and exit the limelight for about five years and then start my brilliant comeback with a stand-up tour, introducing newer, more conceptual insults, like the fact that a pretty penny has a different meaning for Abe Lincoln fetishists. Then I’ll retire for real, guest-hosting the occasional talk show and maybe writing my memoirs, Yes I Can… Fly. Of course, the very first step is to get married, so I can insult my wife’s cooking and shopping habits, and my mother-in-law’s cooking and shopping habits. So, if you know of anyone, hook a winged finger up, if you know what I mean.
Look fellas, this is the hardest letter I’ve had to write, and not just because my talons weren’t designed to operate a fountain pen. I’m really gonna miss you guys, no fooling. But this is something I gotta do. Not just for me, but for the good of the world. Humankind has a big hole that needs to be filled by a sarcastic dinosaur. It’s my destiny. But I’ll never forget the little lizards that were there for me in the beginning. Philo and Ralph, and of course Crow. And to you non-believers, why don’t put some skates on your face, and skate! Sincerely: Shecky Pterosaur. PS: I just have one last thought on my mind (Makes yet another fart noise.) Just needed to close with that remark. See ya, suckers!
Dear Stink-odactyls: Just kidding. Anyway, I’m writing this letter to inform you porcupine racetracks that, as of today I’m leaving you all in the dust! I’ve been mulling it over in my brain the size of a pea and I’ve decided that I can’t live the normal pterodactyl life anymore. I’m through with the pillaging, destroying and lifting of things in my talons. I need to pursue my lifelong dream, which we all know is to move to Vegas and become an insult comic. You googly-eyed goofballs are aware of my formidable skills at knocking folks down a few pegs verbally, and I think it’s time I shared my put-downs with the public.
Ever since I was reanimated, I’ve been studying the great insult comics, all of them. Groucho Marx, Don Rickles, Jacky Mason, they all helped me find my new purpose, and it’s opened my eyes and ears like water to a duck. And speaking of ducks (makes a fart noise with his hand/talon.) That probably doesn’t translate well to the page, but I just made a fart noise. I know Philo is cracking up at that one. See, this is how I roll, fellas. No holds barred, no bars held. I gotta be me, right? No one can stifle old Shecky Pterosaur no more. To all those folks who don’t get me, or think I’m too in your face with the put-downs and the truth bombs, just what the H-E double hockey pucks is wrong with you, ya nimrods! You gotta be duller than a marching band not to get what I’m saying, am I right? What are you, John Philip Snooze-a?
I know what some of you might be thinking. Isn’t cracking wise with the guys enough for you? But you’re thinking too small, which is admittedly understandable, considering the size of our brains, and don’t we have one in our butts, too? That’s just trouble waiting to happen right there. Wait, I just had a thought (makes another fart noise.) You’re welcome, Philo. But seriously, now and all kidding aside, I’ve got big plans for little old me. Of course I’d start small, like the Catskills, or maybe even smaller, the Kittenskills. I’d hit the late-night shows and work my way to Vegas, where my act might include a couple of songs. “I Gotta Be Me,” obviously, and maybe that pterodactyl classic, (screeches.) Though that may confuse non-Spanish speaking audiences. This will inevitably lead to my sitcom, “Winged Assault,” where I insult my family, neighbors and co-workers, and introduce the world to my infamous catchphrase, “What are you looking at, dicknose?” After a healthy ten-year run, I’ll retire the show and exit the limelight for about five years and then start my brilliant comeback with a stand-up tour, introducing newer, more conceptual insults, like the fact that a pretty penny has a different meaning for Abe Lincoln fetishists. Then I’ll retire for real, guest-hosting the occasional talk show and maybe writing my memoirs, Yes I Can… Fly. Of course, the very first step is to get married, so I can insult my wife’s cooking and shopping habits, and my mother-in-law’s cooking and shopping habits. So, if you know of anyone, hook a winged finger up, if you know what I mean.
Look fellas, this is the hardest letter I’ve had to write, and not just because my talons weren’t designed to operate a fountain pen. I’m really gonna miss you guys, no fooling. But this is something I gotta do. Not just for me, but for the good of the world. Humankind has a big hole that needs to be filled by a sarcastic dinosaur. It’s my destiny. But I’ll never forget the little lizards that were there for me in the beginning. Philo and Ralph, and of course Crow. And to you non-believers, why don’t put some skates on your face, and skate! Sincerely: Shecky Pterosaur. PS: I just have one last thought on my mind (Makes yet another fart noise.) Just needed to close with that remark. See ya, suckers!
Monday, October 19, 2009
8. THE OUTSIDERS TAKE CONTROL
(The leader of the Outsiders stands on a box and wears a Members Only jacket. He addresses his ruffian brethren.)
All right, all right, quiet down. Listen up, youse bums, I’m gonna make this short, but not sweet, cuz I ain’t no queer. The pterodactyls are takin’ over our city, bruddas, and I ain’t gonna let ‘em no more. We sat back and let the pigs and the army have their say, but they’re just all talk. I for one think it’s time somebody took some action. And that action is gonna be taken by us. Who’s with me? I said who’s with me?
All right, here’s the deal. I know we’re just a bunch of Outsiders and I know that “society” doesn’t accept us because we’re poor and rude and have colorful nicknames for each other. And I know you’re thinking right now why? Why should we, the Outsiders, step up and help the citizens of a town that don’t even want us around? Why? I’ll tell you why. Because then maybe we’ll be more accepted. Maybe after we come to this city’s rescue, people won’t walk a little faster when they see us coming. Maybe they’ll be able to see past our jean jackets with the sleeves cut off, and t-shirts and combs that flip out like switchblades and our gum chewing and outside voices and greasy hair. Maybe they’ll see past the stereotype to the caricatures we really are. I’d like to live in a town like that, ya know. And I’m willing to be my Newsies dialect any of you would like to, too.
How many crimes have we been unfairly accused of? Stealing everything from Old Man Mose’s front lawn to Cher’s last name, setting fire to Mrs. O’Leary’s cow, drug running, drug speedwalking, jaywalking, Kay walking, mail fraud, World Com, switching the public library’s card catalog to the overly complicated Louie Decimal System, the list goes on from there. Until it ends. And really, how many of those could we have done? There’s a good two or three of these things I don’t remember doing, anyway. Besides, they don’t get us. They don’t get how hard it is to be filled with teen angst, especially when you’re in your thirties. The richies don’t understand what it’s like to live in a house with ten other people and no camera crew. They don’t get the loyalty and love we have for each other is undying and not at all fruity. And they don’t get our nicknames and the importance we carry them with. The pride I feel when you guys call me Tugboat, because I earned that name. I wear it like a badge over my real name.
So, I think I pretty much sold you on why we should do this, now let me tell you what I think we should do. I was rereading Charlotte’s Web the other day, and I suddenly had this great idea. Since pterodactyls are basically like big lizardy flies, the one thing that should stop them is, what? A web, amirite? Now a real spider web won’t work unless we had a big mutated spider. That was my first big idea, but time is running out, so I had to think of something else. That’s when I remembered the World’s Largest Volleyball Net, from the World’s Largest Volleyball Net and Bottomless Cuppa Joe Café. If we can set this up and somehow coax the pterodactyls into it, they’ll be caught. So, here’s the plan: Ponytail, Bubble-Up, you two sneak into the restaurant and distract the owner. Maybe do your Morosey Medley, that’s pretty enchanting. You’re welcome, fellas. Now, while they’re doing that, TV Tag and Burger Time, you’ll be stealing the World’s Largest Volleyball Net, so be sure to wear your coats with the big pockets. Then, we’ll set it up at the Muffin Sangria Memorial Cave, where Windy Winston and Messy Tessie will be doing their best impressions of pterodactyls in heat. I know you guys have been practicing this, so it’s your time to shine. Okay, Mike’N’Ikes and Star Trek IV, you’ll be on either side of the net, and once all the pterodactyls have been snared, you’ll run as fast as you can at each other. But don’t forget to hold onto your end of the net, bruddas, so we’ll really get them tied up. Otherwise, you’ll just be running really fast at each other. Then, me and Walk-In Closet will drop them into the Great Sodium Lake, where they’ll drown to their deaths. And we’ll go back into town and collect our hero medals. For heroic behavior.
Speaking of heroes, I’m reminded two of my biggest heroes in two of their two biggest moments, and the biggest words the two of them said. First, I remember when Helen Keller won the Olympics in 1812, and she gave that speech where she said, “I have a dream that some day there won’t be anymore Nazis, and my favorite flower is the dandelion.” Rumor gots it the Berlin Wall shrunk three times that day. Morning, noon and night. The other quote I think of in this challenging time is what Grandma Moses said, ya know, when she was swallowed by the whale? Remember how she kept repeating and repeating, “I think I can, I think I can, I think I can,” until the whale spit her out in disgust on accounta the repetition. But this city’s never gonna spit us out, right guys? Right? So, let’s show ‘em what we’re made of, in a metaphorical way. By saving this town. Are we ready? Are we ready? I think we are, youse guys! Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! (Exiting.) TV Tag’s driving, and I call shotgun! Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!
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