“This football is afflicted with boils, warts, and the bubonic plague. Oh, and zits. I ask everyone in the congregation and you out there in TV Land to pray along with me and all my other zebras in Christ. Lord, I lay hands on this pigskin and cast out all diseases and afflictions in the name of Jesus. Help this football rise up and walk and receive a double portion of your Spirit. We know that Beelzebub has tormented him throughout the game and Satan, we order you in the name of Jesus to release your grip so that others may grip it, either to look it in the tuck for that 89-yard TD reception or when the Milford Mudlark or Jefferson Jets (Hell, I don’t know their nickname, Thorpiverse didn’t brief me ahead of time ) score the winning TD because the RB didn’t fumble it because of Godly stronghold on the ball. We lay hands in Jesus’ Name. Amen.”
“We know who you are, you are the Son of God!!!!!!”
HOLD THY PEACE AND COME OUT OF HIM!!!!!!!!!!
Legions and legions and legions of demons come out of the football and head toward the trees behind Gil’s office. Small wonder they’re so deformed. Pizuzu must be possessing the poplars on top of the elm tree and mulberry bushes.
“Good as new, Coach Thorp.”
“Thanks, Jesus.”
So at this juncture we’ve negotiated a slightly bizarre twist in the scheme of things.
We NOW have a punter kicking for the team, although we had to tread through Siskel & Ebert reruns to garner the position player. Oh, but wait (to quote my favorite group, Emerson, Lake, & Palmer ) , not content with that, with our hands behind our backs, give it the old college try and develop a legitimate storyline that could be a heart-warming Disney feature, sandwiched between “The Jungle Book” and “Son of Flubber”.
Kinda sorta like “Angels in the Outfield”. Kid hates football, Hard-Luck Loser Coach (not naming any names like, say, Gil or Kaz or maybe Roy Gillen) convinces him to go out for the team, baiting him with a lifetime supply of M & M’s, the Mars Candy truck dumping the wares in the kid’s driveway every week, Marty Moon morphs into another Ranch Wilder and broadcasts on WDIG, after returning from his suspension, natch (gotta have a little controversy so the Disney plot doesn’t get syrupy like a runny Aunt Jemima bottle all over the kitchen counter) , that his dad point-shaved his high school football game, Dad comes along for a press conference in the Milford gym and clears the record, reveling when he was in middle school that he received a $1000 scholarship to Alabama to play for Bear Bryant from the opposing principal if he would throw an interception in lieu of the winning TD (Hey, this is Disney, plots don’t gotta be airtight) , Dad merely gets a paddling after the truth is solidified, everybody hugs and kisses in a heterosexual way (this is G-rated, bear in mind) , even Marty and Peaches gets caught up in the feel-good atmosphere and speed off to Mudlark Lake Resort in Marty’s Rolls-Royce, kid kicks winning FG after Hard-Luck Loser Coach tells the kid a la FDR that this day will be a Day of Infamy if he chokes, game over.
Oh, no, no, no.
Nope, we gotta chase down another rabbit after we damn near blow out Bugs Bunny’s brains. Cheez, no wonder why Elmer Fudd never killed ANY animal, let alone Bugs.
Daffy Duck is sleeping in the pond about to get a wet dream over Daisy Duck.
EF is about to hit the jackpot.
“Hey, I say, hey, look at that elephant running away over yonder.”
“Wealwee? Where’d it go?”
“It’s runnin’ down that path there, leadin’ to the back door of Milford Iron Kitchen. Ya better git it or it’s gonna be on the buffet table tonight. BTW, he goes by the name of Dumbo. He’s an old rogue I went to high school with and we were teammates on the football team. I was the field goal kicker and he was the star running back. But he’s lost his speed. Kinda like Kareem when he was with the Lakers.”
“Hey, wait a minute, YOU’RE AN ANIMAL!!!!!!!!!” about to cock his gun.
“Now hold on there, Fuddy-Duddy, My Man. If you shoot me, there’ll be, I say, there’ll be no one ta guard the chickens. And then Mr. Green Jeans, my boss, will be up your, I say, up your ass in alligators with The Shark cuz yore gun ain’t registered . I can see the Kohl’s price tag on the barrel.”
Fuddy-Duddy lowers the gun.
“Besides, isn’t Dumbo a lot tastier? And you’d have his head to mount on your wall once ya done fileted him. Better ‘n’ that anteater mug that Gil has staged in his den.
Fuddy-Duddy turns around.
“Shhhhhhhh, be vewy, vewy quiet. I’m hunting Dumbos. HAHAHAHAHA…..”
BIG BIG shout-out to Albert Carr of Louisville, Kentucky. When he was stricken with high-blood pressure that caused him to collapse, injuring his neck and dental work, he was told he might not survive.
BUT NOW, he has not only surviving but is THRIVING, going to the Rehab Center once a week and living a full life. He is close to walking again, able to walk a few steps, such as taking a trip to the kitchen, for example, and he exercises, performing different hand and finger exercises, not to mention getting on the bike and workin’ those legs. Gang, I think he has decided to GET BUSY LIVIN’. If you see Albert Carr in your neck of the woods, treat him with respect. HE’S EARNED IT!!!!!!!!!!
And JUST WHEN WE WERE HOPING THAT WE’D GET TO SOME FOOTBALL (y’know, oval shape, made from hog intestines, the ones you throw for the Flutie Miracle or the one you recover for a fumble at The Miracle at the Meadowlands or Franco Harris returned for a miraculous TD when it bounced off Gil’s hairdo, Kaz’s earring, Marty’s butt, and Tiki’s sister) , we’re given 1/3 of the output. Thorpuverse, let me spell this one out.
A referee with crackless pants (we’re assuming, the jury’s still out since we’re stuck with a side shot and can posit nothing positive) that he bought from Rural King, Marty sipping from his Ensure Rockin’ Raspberry while keeping his potty mouth in check (again assuming) , and a Jefferson punt returner (see the other two bracketed comments) doing the Charleston IS REALLY NOT FOOTBALL. I could transmogrify this in the middle of a L’il Lotta comic book and I’m wondering how many people I could dupe.
“I’ll show you, you fat-mouthed piece of horse-dung bully that you can’t beat up my dad when he’s coming home from the factory after 4 hours of over-Sorry, Coach, next time I’ll use the Port-o-Let behind Team Bus #12. I still didn’t fumble it and you have to admit my fair catch signal would have won an Oscar.” “Very valiant to admit that you let the team down when you didn’t address your bladder problems in a timely fashion. But we have excellent field position so no harm-I’m sorry, L’il Lotta, L’il Dot can’t come out to play. She’s in bed with the mumps after too much Livercheese ‘n’ Fries at The Bucket. She can’t even chew on a Bucket Slushee Icee Mocha ‘n’ Melon. Have you tried Richie Rich? I heard he got another $100,000,000 and he didn’t even have to call 1-FON-TH-Hey, George, didn’t you read the Point of Emphasis in the rule book this year? The committee was coming down hard on derrieres in the open field. You might get a Letter of Reprimand-and the next time you try to shove a Twinkie up my dad’s butt or his uneaten BLT for that matter, you scumbagloserwormeatingtoadswallowingRichieRichstoogeflunky, I’ll stick your face in Marty Moon’s cup and you’ll know first-hand what Ensure High Life tastes-Burn, baby, burn/Disco Inferno/ Burn, baby, burn/Burn this mother down…”
Well, I think you get my point. No sense in saying that the Jefferson Fair Catch Caller was not doing any Texas Two-Step with himself or that Richie Rich bought into a share of The Milford Enquirer. Let bygones be bygones.
“If your farm animals have been injured in an accident, call The Shark today at 1-FON-THE-JAWS. Get the money you deserve.”
Mr. Green Jeans: “My chick-a-dees were attacked by a Rottweiler after the hunter was out in the Milford Fish & Wildlife area hunting moose. The Rottweiler was documented as being dyslyexic. (Holds up 100^100=Googol check) . Thank you, Shark.”
Farmer in the Dell: “My lead rooster, Foghorn Leghorn, was shot up several times after Elmer Fudd missed Dumbo. Found out later on that Elmer Fudd didn’t have his Winchester legally registered. Mr. Leghorn survived after Garfield fed him several bowls of lasagna. And I received this (Check worth a generous Powerball ticket from the Milford Lottery) . Thanks, Shark.”
Insurance companies are working hard to protect their losses. Don’t let them clean you out of house and barn. If Mr. Ed gets herpes because the FedEx man failed to properly seal the hay, call The Shark today. Easy to remember, 1-FON-THE-JAWS. One call, that’s all.
No, really, Alanis Morissette is helping me to bring sanity to this plot. Or I’d go insane. Alanis, you rock like you have for eons. Let ‘er rip.
If it wasn’t for your immaturity/none of this would have happened
If you’d watched movies with a logical sequence/we might have a decent storyline
I know you like to ramble/and steer this concept ’til it gets too goofy
Just get it to basketball/and I doubt anyone will do any snooping
Ooooooooo, this could get messy
But you evidently don’t seem to mind
Ooooooooo, don’t go tellin’ everybody
And tell Gil and Kaz about this supposed crime
We’ll fast-forward to some two months later
No one knows save the readership
And I have tried to honor the demands for reason
And you’ve washed your hands of this shit
A passenger is holding his nose.
“Ooooooooooooeeeeeeeee!!!! Marty, you need to take this buggy through the Milford Soak ‘n’ Suds. How many skunks did you run over on the way to the County Fair?”
Later, that evening
“Peaches, I told you bathing the mini-bus in Febreze on my lunch break was a horrible idea!!!!!!!!!!!! And I still itch on top of that!!!!!!!!! I’ll never take another shortcut through the Milford Wildlife Plot between Milford Wal-Mart and Milford Target!!!!!!
Thanks to Cyndi Smith from Louisville, Kentucky for helping me with the comedy idea. You make the place a better place to live. You’ve overcome a lot to get to where you are. You have a great sense of humor and you treat people with TONS of respect. Treat HER with respect, gang. She’s earned it.
I like how you depend on me/to kick the ball and not forfeit away a win
I’m happy how you sexualize me/I’m the boss and say it with a Cheshire Grin
One day Gil will shout he owes it all to me/and award me half his teacher retirement
If I keep a firm body and watch that weight/I can be a supple Milford fireman
Ooooooooooo, this could get sucky
But youuuuuu don’t seem to mind
Ooooooooooo, don’t go tellin’ everybody
And slip a news tip to Marty about this supposed crime
We’ll fast-forward to a few months later
And we’ll plop into girls basketball
And I have tried to honor pleas for common sense
And you’ve washed your hands of this folderol
Gene, ya gotta help us. Please tell us Match Game 2018 is here to the rescue from all this malarkey.
Dumb Dora was SOOOOOOOOOOOOOO dumb (HOW DUMB WAS SHE???????), She thought a Fair Catch was when a football player grabbed his ______________ when he celebrated the winning TD catch.
Take ‘er away, gang. I’m going to the Milford Dance Studio to learn Polka/Disco step the Fair Catch dude is executing in P3. By the time they’re done with me, I’ll be at Studio 54 a la John Travolta tripping the night fantastic to a “Saturday Night Fever” melange, accompanied by an accordion. Sexy.
THE GRAND FINALE
Tiki, Tiki’s sister, Joe, his nameless friends who tag along like Lassie pursuing Timmy, ALL accompanying Alanis on the refrain
First of all – sorry for my delinquincy yesterday– combination of busy day and lack of motivation to do this storyline.. but I’m back today so here goes.
So here’s what we have so far:
Tiki Jansen transfered from another school, played cornerback the first game, and is now the new safety, replacing ..?
Sam Finn is the best punter but they cant find another long snapper so he’s it.
Freddy Malouf was the punter the first game and is out, replaced by #4.
Mike Filion, who is also the starting QB and will give punting a try.
Joe Bolek, former competent punter somewhere who doesnt want to play but may try.
And we’re only in Week 2!!
So we may possibly have 3 different guys punt in 3 games, if Fillion is bad and Bolek suits up next week. And Punter # 4 would be Finn in Week 4; at this rate the game would be in November.
Anyone else roaming the hallways they can ask? Good God almighty. Its so laughable it makes me cry. They might as well put a huge sign on the wall:
WANTED: PUNTER> NO EXPERIENCE NECESSARY. APPLY ANYWHERE OUTSIDE A CLASSROOM. DEADLINE: CHRISMAS.
Holy crap.
All this time Finn is the guy to do it but the dildos cant find another long snapper! Jesus, have the damn regular center snap during practice and you’re good to go. How much time are we gonna spend on this assinine situation? What the hell are they doing during practice? We already broached the idea of a soccer player helping out but its fallen on deaf ears. 3 morons sit in front of a computer and marvel at the new ‘software’ but they dont have a damn brain between them!
I’m figuring the final answer is, yep, Tiki Jansen. But god the taffy pull to get to it. 5 punters in 1 season! And they have so many other issues besides this one. If theyre anywhere near a solid team, the punter wouldnt matter much anyway.
To the strip: Love how Jansen the new safety is playing 50 yards behind everyone else. I guess Gil said defend the goal line no matter where everyone else is. Doh.
Another idea if Fillion is half decent at punting is trying a quick kick from the regular formation once in a while when theyre in 3rd and very long. But no way do they think of that one. It actually works most of the time because nobodys back that far on defense for the kick if theyre playing a normal dime.
I’m going out on a limb and saying Milford will have more punters then victories this year. Any takers?
It’s fun to dump on Marty Moon. His sippy cup is full of bottom shelf vermouth. He’s sealed up in a crate, imagining that the cockroaches crawling around him are playing football. His headset is assembled from odds and ends scrounged from the kitchenware area of Goodwill. His lifetime batting average of successful sick burns on Gil is .002, but I’m going to have to give him a small win today. Gil’s whole approach to the punt team is a disaster. Sure, things go wrong even with the best personnel, but Gil is just throwing crap at the wall to see what sticks during the game. Hey Weibe, you just scored a touchdown. Congrats, you’re the new long snapper. What are you doing Gil? Maybe that game video software that was hinted at earlier is so much fun to play around with that the whole coaching staff forgot to sort out the depth chart during practices. Wait, practices? Oh yeahhhh.
Never fear, everything will come up roses for Gil. Look! A miraculous play on the other side of the ball on special teams. Tiki Jansen, proud driver of a 2000 Breeze, blocks a field goal attempt. There’s no way to know how he got through or around the Oakwood line. He just did, okay?
eta billytheskink pointed out a similarity between Tiki’s dive and a cut scene from Tecmo Super Bowl. I think this is what he’s referring to:
I only played the first Tecmo Bowl game, and I was bad at it so I ended up mostly watching others play. I don’t think there were insert shots like this in that game.
Jason looks as though he’d rather be keeping wicket for the Croydon Gentlemen as Kaz readies him to go over the top, then under the bus. If this is the same Jason (Weibe) who just scored a touchdown on the last drive, why put one of your offensive weapons at risk like that? I get that he’s a tight end and, unlike Heather Burns, probably has enough size to hold his own on the line, but still: we’ve seen no exposition that he’s practiced at the position. How many elbows does Kaz have to get his arm around Jason’s shoulder like that?
Speaking of the anatomically implausible, is Sam Finn rolling on his own ankle as he reaches for the felt electric football? That’ll set up a Weibe-to-Malouf punting combo even more disastrous than the last two. There are obvious answers here, first being have the Mudlarks’ regular center snap the ball directly to Sam, who can take a two-step drop and and quick-kick. If Milford operates out of the shotgun from time to time, the center should be used to snapping the ball a greater distance than a conventional snap, which would give Sam even more room for a quick-kick.
This will give Marty, now sporting cupcake liners in his headset, prime fodder for his postgame show. How could Gil, Kaz, Steve & co. put such an ill-prepared special teams unit on the field? Did they spend too much time on baseball?
metapost: The slow-motion disaster post-Hurricane Florence continues to unfold in Bakst country. We no longer get a bonfire in Milford, but down there is a bonfire that’s having its own share of troubles. Again, if any of you TWIMers were in the path of Florence and are dealing with the aftermath, holler at us and let us know you’re alright.
Dad, you’re 80 years old today. You are a major reason for this blog. Thanks for all your encouragement in ANYTHING I’ve set out to do. I love you.
P1: “Coach, remember the time when you said that if you had broccoli in your teeth, you’d want to know about it?”
Which typifies the aborted inspiration Coach Thorp attempts to instill in his players. The only problem is, and maybe it’s just me, but don’t you old-timers remember when Gil was going the Dr. Norman Vincent Peale Power of Positive Thinking Route, the player(s) would perform something that may not have been drawn up in the playbook nor, really, went the way of the Thorpscript but turned out halfway decent? Now it just seems like every time Gil dispenses his Pearls of Wisdom, it reads like a bad Kung-Fu episode.
“Grasshopper, you have nothing to fear from the 458-lb. defensive tackle that you’re blocking this Friday. Just remember your technique, hit him low, and tell him his mother still reads him bedtime stories. Talk trash to him and you can take him out of his game.”
“Yes, Master.”
SQUASHHHHHHHHHHHH
“Watch where you’re driving that equipment truck. Now we’ll never find him in this high grass.”
And, again, maybe it’s just me(what happens when you develop writer’s cramp in your old age) but do we really need another Polygrip Moment as in P1? I know Gil is 60 years old but if he’s been drinking milk and eating his fruits and vegetables and, in general, been a poster child for the 4 food groups, then, unless his teeth were made out of balsa wood, they should still BE IN PLACE. Otherwise, why does he feel the need to flash those dentures to Freddy or the zombies in the background?
“He won’t suffer any more embarrassing incidents, such as watching his teeth pop out of his mouth and land on the sod when he jumps up and down after his place kicker sends the winning 69-yarder through the uprights. Try the new Polygrip with Fluoride. Occlusive seals never felt stronger and grass stains are a thing of the past. Only at Milford Pharmacy.”
The Milford Police are still baffled by WHO SHOT COACH SHAW. You’d think in a small town that’s been on the planet for 60 years where EVERYBODY KNOWS EVERYBODY in the same period of time that the culprit would have nowhere to run. Well, that’s not entirely true, if I were to shoot a man who barely shows up on the radar at football games but is a weather advisory at game film sessions (The National Weather Service has issued a Shaw Warning Advisory in effect until 10:15PM this evening, Mudlark Standard Time. There are reports of damaging winds and BB-sized hail. Power lines, as a result of multiple lightning incidents are down in parts of Oakwood, New Thayer, Lake Forest, as well as the Mudlarkland viewing area. Please seek shelter immediately…”) , I would head to the nearest skyscraper in downtown Milford and lay low on the 63rd floor of the Milford Mutual Tower until this thing blew over. And that’s probably what this psycho is thinking. No headin’ to the Milford Lounge for Miller time after the deed is done.
At the bar counter “Mr. Bates, wanna ‘nuther Bud before I close up?”`
“NO GET AWAY FROM ME YOU GONNA PUNISH ME CUZ I MISSED A FILM SESSION I HAD TO GO THE DENTIST…”
“Honey, wake up, it’s me. You were having a bad dream. You’re fine, Dear, I’m here. Come, jump on me and let’s have snack to (talking sexy) chase away that leetle ol’ bad dreamie.”
NO GET AWAY FROM ME YOU CAN’T STICK ME JUST CUZ I CAN’T STICK YOU YOU GONNA PUNISH ME FOR GOIN’ LIMP JUST CUZ I CHOWED ON TOO MUCH ON 3 PASTA SALAD AT FAZOLI’S WISH I HAD MY WINCHESTER IN THE BATHTUB…”
And to address bathrooms in public buildings with stalls that have become as big as a dining room suite
“Gil, we can get a graduate assistant to work on Malouf’s hands. He’s definitely not hopeless.”
“I agree, Kaz, looking at the game film here, I saw a lot of positives. He and Finn-
FLLLLLLLLLLLUUUUUUUUUUSSSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
Coach Shaw appears
“Oooooooooooooeeeeeeeee, man, was THAT a big-time load. Musta been the spicy parmesan in the Domino’s pepperoni.”
And what Gil Thorp strip in any sport, football, basketball, baseball, hockey, bowling, wrestling (HIGH SCHOOL wrestling, not the stuff you see down at the Milford Gardens, you Jerry Lawler freaks) track, X-country, volleyball, golf, curling (just seeing if you’re paying attention) , without Marty Moon enjoying his Lowenbrau Moment (take that over Polygrip Moment anytime) ?
I can see the commercial
“Here’s to good friends, tonight is kinda special…”
Marty and his old high school classmates cram into Marty’s broadcast booth. As long as nobody throws a quick elbow, the Lowenbrau won’t wind up in the cheese popcorn.
“Gentlemen, watching Gil get waxed just makes my night. It just don’t get any better than this.”
“That’s Old Milwaukee, Marty.”
“Don’t rain on my parade, Gene. Anytime I can stick it to Coach T with a kicker with a World Cup foot but Yogi Bear hands, it just makes the Lowenbrau that much sweeter.”
“Yeah, and it’s less filling.”
“Tastes great.”
LESS FILLING
TASTES GREAT
LESS FILL-
As Marty squeezes one of his classmates in a Sleeper Hold, we softly hear
“Toniiiiiggghhhhttttt, let it be Lowenbrau.”
Sent forth on a quest from TV Land
Bringing Truth and Justice in our hands
It’s Milkmannnnnnnnnn
Milkman walks into Milford Lounge. He just made a delivery of two crates of 2% and some Philadelphia Cream Cheese Raspberry and Philadelphia Cream Cheese Gooseberry. Happy Hour is never the same without something to top the appetizer, like pretzels or shredded black ham. He’s taking his 15-minute break.
Marty is submerged in his beer. Talk about Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea.
“Why are you drowning in your sorrows, Marty?”
“You wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me.”
“Look, I’m in no mood to talk to a guy who’s as out of place here as a stray dog in heat at the AKC International Dog Show. Take your milk and cookies and hit the road, Jack.”
“Actually, Marty, I did bring some Chips Ahoy and some egg nog. I’m still on break so technically the bartender can’t say anything.”
Tired of drinking after his 17th Bud Light
“I got suspended for swearing on the air.”
“Well, Marty, saying ‘Die, you gravy-sucking, testicle-licking, ass-kissing, pubic hair-combing piece of cow manure wasn’t the wisest thing to say. But I was once suspended for two weeks.”
Marty looks up. Milkman is winning him over.
“That’s right, I was released from my duties for telling the supervisor in front of several members of the 3rd shift crew on the Country Crock Cinnamon Butter production line that the milk was so bad here, there was no difference between that and what came out of an elephant’s boobs in Rwanda at the Nature Reserve. I was young and stupid and without a paycheck for two weeks. Hard to pay the pawn shop for a Gibson Guitar, let alone buy Fruit of the Looms at K-Mart when you have no money. Marty, we’ve all put our feet in our mouths. Maybe you need a shoehorn every once in a while, oh, OK, every week, but we have all said things we wish we could reel back later. Yours is just a 60-lb. striped bass that requires a tow truck to haul in on The Fishing Channel. That’s the only difference. Plus, I don’t wear a goatee. Homogenized milk would look nasty on it.”
“Gee, thanks, Milkman. I’ll go get a gallon of regular milk and apologize to Gil for being such a nasty creep. I’ll even throw in that I shouldn’t have called Mimi a prostitute.”
“Aaaaaaaaa, Marty, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. It’s taken 60 years to wean yourself from your SNAKE nomenclature. It might take 60 more ’til it’s out of your system but you’re getting the idea..
“Awright, Mister, you’re ruining business. Buy a Falls City or scram.”
“Sorry, bartender. Would you like some Philadelphia Cream Cheese Hazelnut before I go?”
Heard at the Milford Adult Book Store between two employees during a dead period (Mondays are always like that)
“You think it was David Greene?”
“He might have attacked Marty Moon that one time but Shaw’s performance was on the Sabbath.”
At the Milford Kohl’s, Marty Moon is trying on some Dickie pants. He’s attempting to find out if he’s gained any weight or grown any since he switched from WMFD to WDIG (“Marty, I swear, you’ve grown since you transferred. You ever think of trying out for the team?”) .
He is currently debating 42/32 or 40/38. His growth spurt perhaps out of control from all the Pabst Blue Ribbons at the Milford Lounge (Milford Enquirer, May 15, 2011 article: “Beer Drinking Stimulates Pituitary Gland, Releasing Growth Hormones, Studies Reveal at the Milford Community College!!!) . He tries on the 42.
There’s a hitch. The problem with dressing room doors is that they’re manufactured from the same company that produces saloon doors. Marty’s dressing room door is created from the same design of the door of the saloon Wild Bill Hickok died at from “Dead Man’s Hand”.
“PEEKABOO!!!!!!!!!!”
“Peaches, dammit!!!!!!! Can’t you see I’m dressing??
“Oh, you sexy tart, that’s THE IDEA. I thought we might get a little comfy before you try on any more Richards.”
“Dickies.”
“Whatever, same name, different sex organ, but gets us both erect, that’s all that matters.”
“Peaches, I gotta get my uniforms tried on before I hit the nightshift tonight. Can’t it wait until tomorrow morning? I’ll still have a little octane in the tank before I hit the sack.”
“But someone might sugar your engine, sweetie pie. Come, come, the clerk will understand two adults need for a little fun at the playground.”
“Doll, I’m not rumblin’ at the jungle gym where the kids can see me butt naked.”
“Oh, Marty, don’t be a party pooper. Life is more than Mini-bus manifests and beer nuts at the Milford Lounge, let alone going up and down at the teeter-totter with members of the same sex, even if you’re both butt-naked. Now drop ’em and let’s have a little fun,”
She rips the pants button off the unpaid merchandise only to find out that something else is unaccounted for.
“Ummmmm, never mind.”
“Peaches, you barge in like Jesse James holding up the Last Gulch Saloon and now you just pack u[ and leave with no loot?”
“I’m surprised he didn’t shoot you cold dead with no gold in the vault.”
“Honey, I’m harder than a rock and I’m not even trying. Why don’t you make yourself at home as long as you’ve wrecked my schedule.”
“Kinda hard when you’re not hard.”
“How dare you stiff me like that when I’m trying to do my job?”
“You could bust out of this saloon door and not only would no one notice the dearth of stiffness, you wouldn’t have ANY jobs, payroll or non-payroll.”
The manager walks by
“Is there a problem here? Oh, it’s you, Marty. I see that it’s nothing at all.”
“Rest my case.”
“When you can’t get embarrassed when you’re displaying nothing in your birthday suit, it’s time to hit the Milford Men’s Clinic. They have programs that work, now including Milford Men’s Clinic Quik-Fix Pump injections to avoid those awful surprises like the one I had. I’d rather spend a night at Peaches’ mother’s house. ALONE. Isn’t it time you filled your Dickie pants with more than just pants? So that it’s more than just a pun? Sure you do. My britches feel fine and I do do too. You’re gonna like the way you look. And pump. I guarantee it.”
Comment away, gang. Don’t let the opportunity slip through your fingers.
Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer
“Men’s Warehouse Sues Marty Moon Over Unlawful Infringement Of Their Slogan.”
sub headline
“Sharkey Refuses Case. Received a ‘D’ in Copyright Law and Patents at the Richard M. Nixon Law School at Milford Community College, According to a Report.”
TALK ABOUT THE SAME OLD STORY
TO EVERYONE THAT SHE KNOWS
SHE’S JUST SITTIN’ IN A ROOM
WITH BOOKS ABOUT UFO’S
In the den at the Thorp household
“Mimi, you didn’t tell me you were into Carl Sagan
Off of (warned ya, gang) Husker Du’s “New Day Rising”, in case anybody’s interested.
Thanks, timbuys, for the insert. You da Man. This just made my day. Enjoy, gang, and thank Tim while you’re at it. He’s VERY creative.
Man, the last thing I want to read in Gil Thorp is Kaz talking about Kelly’s sexual proclivities. Oh, wait, he said Fellini. Never mind.
Does an awkward fist bump qualify as a “High Five Fail”? Today, I’m calling that it does.
Quick cut to the practice field and there’s Marjie with her canister of pepper spray. Mouseketeer Roll Call will begin tomorrow and Joe Bolek will get namechecked along with a few other of Rubin’s friends. Something tells me Bolek will flop as a ballplayer, or suffer a season-ending injury, and replace Kaz as the “film guru” on the Mudlark coaching staff. Then he can tell Gil what kind of wacky leather-helmet era formation he can spring on the Valley Conference to make up for the usual fundamental shortcomings that plague the Milford football program.
Hold up: is that Marty standing next to Gil and Marjie? Looks like he’s still taking hits from that tall can of STFU Gil gave him at the end of basketball season. Let’s see how long that lasts.
One of the common pet peeves here at This Week in Milford is the passage of time in the Thorpiverse and how rarely the school year and sports seasons parallel neatly with those in real life. For example, while the Mudlarks are playing what appears to be their second game of the season, high schools in the US have completed their regular seasons and the College World Series is less than a month away. Given that this is the first appearance of Marty Moon since he was given an additional two-week suspension and roasted by Gil on his way out the WDIG door, I want to say two weeks in Milford pass like a month in real time. Of course time dilation is fluid and by the end of next week we could be looking at a playdown scenario.
Me, I’m just waiting to hear what Marty has to say when Jorge Padilla comes to bat. Anyone else feel cheated that Rubin didn’t give us Marty’s on-air mea culpa?
Anyhoo, let’s focus on the action. Looks like Pelwecki found his missing 1/16 of an inch. I think I figured out how he found it; he’d been wearing #30 up to this point but now he’s switched to lucky #13. Our cliffhanger comes at the other end of Barry Bader’s sharply hit ground ball. Barry’s been a bit tetchy since Dafne set Jay Bhatia on him and got all up in his face about his dad; he’s a firecracker waiting to go off. Maybe there’ll be a close play at first and Barry will give us that Jimmy Piersall moment I’ve been waiting for for the past two years.
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