Sunday, November 06, 2005

Wunnerful, Wunnerful, Wunnerful...

...And Mr. Scoop Learns The True Meaning Of Fear...

“Why is this happening to me?” I was in the bathroom, but I heard Mr. Scoop’s plaintive shrieks through the door.

“What?” I yelled through back.

“It’s gone horribly wrong!!!”

“What?!?!”

“Holy Christ! Is that an orange polyester blazer? Oh, holy fuck! This show has sketch comedy! Oh! Oh my God!” Mr. Scoop screamed from the other room.

“What?” I yelled back. We were having this conversation as though we were old people, yelling across the house to one another.

“This guy…was pretending to be a wizard…and he said he had too much time on his hands… except he was clearly reading off a card and it said “thyme” but he mispronounced it “thime”…and now these women are singing a song about “time” dressed as witches and he stepped all over their punch line”, he shouted to me, horrified.

As though I could hear him.

“The one saving grace to this show is that I know that everybody that I hear applauding for this shit right now is currently dead”, he continued. “George Romero saw this and decided to write “Dawn of the Dead”. But with fewer shitty musical acts!”

“Um. I’ll be out in a minute?” I tried to stall for time.

He would have none of it: “Why am I seeing this? This band appears to be employing Nancy Reagan and Richard Dawson seems to be on flute. And the conductor! In the baby blue polyester double knit? That man isn’t conducting the band. He just has the DTs!”

“I have no idea what you’re trying to tell me”, I yelled back.

“Your mother hated you. She wanted you to die. And if she could’ve gotten a good grip on the clothes hanger…”, he screamed.

“What? I can’t hear you”, I yelled back.

“Jesus! Is that supposed to be ‘Ghost Riders in the Motherfucking Sky? You are raping the Outlaws only hit with your goddamn treacle!”

I finally emerged from the bathroom.

“The bubble machine is full of heroin!” Mr. Scoop gestured at the television helplessly, his eyes wide with terror.

“What are you watching,” I demanded.

“The Lawerence Welk Halloween Special. On PBS. From 1976.” As he said the words, a numbing wave of cold passed through me.

We held each other for the rest of the night, shivering when we thought of the orange polyester horror.

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2 comments:

Dave Morris said...

Ever see Wheel of Fortune, where they put the first name of one actor with the last name of another and they share the middle name?

I just thought of one that would be funny. Martin Lawrence Welk. Now that would be good television. "A one... and a motherfucking two... and a..."

No, I don't regularly watch Wheel of Fortune, shut up.

Lightning Bug's Butt said...

Is this about those two cheerleaders who were doing it in a bathroom stall?