Monday, July 26, 2010

Something Goofy

I was walking down the street when a gerbil leaned out of his car and waved me over. Naturally, I wanted to know what he had to say. My mistake! It was a she, and she wanted to know if I had any plans that night. I did, I was meeting my pet Jujube for dinner and a massage, and I told Ms. Gerbil so. Well she didn't take this very well at all and drove off in a huff. This was strange for two reasons: one, we had just met so why would she be so mad at me and two, she have driven off in a huff when she drove up in a car. Very odd.
Anyway, I kept right on hopping, bopping, popping, stopping, shopping, and mopping along down the road. Not too far after that I was accosted again, this time by an albino monk seal wearing the most fantastic hat I have ever seen. I would try to describe it to you, but I would not be able to do it justice. Also, don't try to imagine it because there is no way your imagination could match the awesome that was Mr. Toadstool's headwear. Mr. Toadstool, that was the albino monk seal's name, asked me if I had the time. I wondered the time for what and asked. He shook his head, his whole neck really (which you would know if you've ever had the pleasure of watching a monk seal indicate the negative), and restated his question by asking me if I knew what time it was. I did. He was sad I did for if I hadn't he would have been able to show off the brand-spanking new (how is something brand-spanked exactly) he had strapped to his flipper. I apologized, of course and told him that if he would like he could restate his query once more and I would answer in a fashion more appropriate for his needs. He sighed that it was too late and the moment had passed and then flip-flopped his way down a nearby alley. This was sad really as I have never seen a watch strapped to a flipper and now I suppose I never will.
Just then the demon in my pocket began to clamor for my attention. I had been ignoring it all day on account of this quite annoying bill collector who had been trying to contact me. I swear, miss two or three payments on your hydropyrodynamic insulating blue lettuce aggregateor and they just won't leave you alone. Rather than answer I pulled the demon from my pocket and flicked him squarely and firmly on his not unsubstantial nose. This, as you could expect, angered my little red friend and he began waving his hands all over preparing some demoniacally evil spell which he cast in my general direction. Having a demonic spell cast at you is somewhat disconcerting, you would think. And you would be right most of the time. But not this time. This time you would be dead wrong. Because my demon, along with being such a small fellow, is also not very good at his devil-making ways. That's why he was demoted (or demon-moted as he likes to quip) to pocket demon. So his spell bounced harmlessly off a button on my shirt, turning it into a small flower. He managed to look pleased with himself. After all, how easy would it be for me to button and unbutton (flower and unflower) my shirt now. He had caused a Grand Inconvenience.
I choose to ignore the flowering of my shirt button and returned him to my pocket where he could rant and rage to his black heart's content. It was then that I noticed an unattended two-wheeled conveyance on the side of the road. Looking left and right, north and south, up and down, left and right again (you can never be too careful), I stole away on it. It had been quite a day and nothing lighted a day up like a little mischief. I couldn't think of any mischief which is why I instead settled on theft.
As always happens, as soon as I'd committed theft-in-place-of-mischief mischief sprang to mind. There, right in front of me, was old Mr. SillyFingersMcGeestien. He was always so mean to me and Jujube (my pet, if you remember)! Once he even chased us down and hung us by our littlest toes while he played “It's a Small World After All” on the saw over and over and over and over and over and over again. I can't even remember now what we had done to deserve such harsh treatment. Oh wait, maybe it was because we painted the windows of his house black and then set his cabbage on fire. Or maybe it was because we danced on his rooftop in high-heeled Beatle boots all night long the day after his prized petunias had mysteriously dissapeared. (That wasn't us, we don't do dissapearing petunias. I have it on good authority that it was Grande the Greek Geek that did the dissapearing. We paid him to.)
Anyway, mean old Mr. SillyFingersMcGeestien was in my sights. I prepared myself for serious mischief levels and, as I passed him, shouted out that his parents never loved him and he was adopted and his sister would never return his phone calls. All of these things were true, which I knew from opening his mail, and I felt quite smug about my total burn.
Unfortunately, my total burning of Mr. SillyFingersMcGeestien distracted me from my piloting of my bi-wheeled method of transportation. It wasn't until I turned back to facing the front, which happened to be the direction I was headed since these things are no good for going frontwards sideways, that I saw I was headed directly towards a Cream Cheese Hole! Now, since you are a learned person, as I expect you are, I don't need to describe the appearance of a Cream Cheese Hole nor do I have to describe what fate awaited me upon impact. This is quite nice as describing these things would put back into the mindset I was in at that time and that is nearly almost quite as bad as being there the first time, which I also was and wouldn't want to be again.
Needless to say, I didn't make my date with Jujube that night and spent several days wandering the far reaches of the cosmos in search of a wet nap and fourteen oddly-shaped rocks. Sometimes it's just not worth leaving the Batcave.