This Week in Milford

February 15, 2020

Phoebe’s Electric!

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Steve Luhm, Master of the Janitorium, has been keeping the halls of Milford High so shiny that Phoebe Keener can get in some Electric Slide practice in time for the reprise of the Milford/Goshen flash mob from a few seasons back.

 

I could be wrong; Milford could be replacing West Allis, Wisconsin as the home of US speed skating, and Phoebe’s working on her stride. Then again maybe those are figure skating moves, as her camel game is very strong today.

Any or all of that makes as much sense as the gibberish she’s doling out to Alexa Watson. So Chris Schuring’s little secret is to be an obnoxious jerk and start cutting in front of people everywhere you go? How exactly has that worked out for him? He had a good game against Oakwood but how did that translate from Gil’s directive to “pounce”? He hasn’t pounced on that punk-ass DeMarco kid yet, much less throw his weight around the halls. Better left to his flunkies, I suppose.

Even Phoebe recognizes this little head game won’t make Alexa see herself as less of a geek. If it makes everyone else see that Alexa is a person who won’t let anyone stand in her way physically, then she and Chris are on to something. Too bad it’s not the Lady Mudlarks’ opponents who’ll see all that cutting ahead of kids in the hall. Once Alexa’s muscled her way into position there’s still that little matter of shooting the ball, which Chris’ solution conveniently glosses over.

Speaking of Phoebe and shooting and apropos of nothing, here’s a shot of an Eastern Phoebe taken by son of teenchy on one of our side trips to Bakst country not very long ago.

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February 5, 2020

Unwanted attention, on and off the court

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I wouldn’t like attention, either, when it’s coming from someone whose attention I don’t want, who walks up to me looking like an alien host from The X-Files, and who starts making unsolicited observations and psychoanalyses about my behavior.

Rubin’s created this kind of Goofus and Gallant vibe coming from the Alexa and Chris dynamic. Alexa lets criticism go to her head while Chris lets the taunts of immature punks slide like water off a duck’s back. Alexa treats academics like a contact sport – or so we’re told – while Chris is much more chill when it comes to his studies. (They’re both kind of hung up on their stats, though.) Chris’ blunt approach to Alexa today moves his personal needle closer to Goofus. At least he’s left Alexa an opening, probably because he knows she never takes them.

Playing quarterback to get attention is such a Pelwecki thing to do. Alexa should know that every boy who’s put his hands under center for the past five seasons has had to fill the cleats of a unicorn*  and, by extension, validate Gil’s ability as a coach. No pressure there.

 

*Did anybody notice that Wake Forest’s starting QB transferred to Georgia? Leaves an opening for redshirt senior True Standish.

December 12, 2019

You Can Call Me Al

Filed under: Boredom in Milford, Piss faced Alexa Watson, song parody — tdrewhardin @ 9:40 am

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Two girls walk in the cafeteria

One says “Why hasn’t basketball started yet,

Hasn’t gotten off its ass yet

The rest of the plot will probably be Uncle Ben’s Denture-Friendly Rice

We need another opportunity

A shot at Peppermint Patty

Don’t want to wind up in Wee Pals

In a Wee Pals graveyard”

Bonedigger, Bonedigger

Marmaduke in the moonlight

And plot far away in Rivets’ doghouse

Mr. Snoopy, Snoopy

Get these mutts away from me

You know, we dont find this entertaining anymore

 

 

If you’ll just speed up basketball

I can be your long lost pal

I can call you Phoebe, and Phoebe, when you call me, you can call me Al

 

After having lost a bundle because we got the Watson joke THE VERY NEXT DAY (Had to fork over my Gil Thorp Comic Strip scrapbooks, in installments) , I am still wondering if these girls are going to play basketball. Now if Alexa the Supercomputer (I rub it in well, don’t I?) is 6’1″, the implication couldn’t be leading towards wrestling. God bless the girls who have broken into the sport and SUCCEEDED many times but I don’t think Alexa will be one of the pioneers continuing to lead the way.

Coach Thorp passing by Alexa one day in the Mathematics wing of Milford High School

“God Almighty, you’re tall. Did you ever think about going out for the wrestling team? I’ll bet you could execute a 3/4 Nelson with the best of ’em.”

“I’ll think about it. Who do I talk to, Coach Shaw?”

“No, he’s in Tank McNamara for the time being. Won’t be back until the Football Wienie Roast Pep Rally. Let me speak with Coach Anderson.”

“BTW, what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be back in gym?”

“I was going to strong-arm another trig teacher to clear one of my players to play. He just got sine and cosine, mixed up that’s all. Plus, I wasn’t doing anything anyway, like for the last 60 years.”

“I’ll work on Takedown Procedures tonight after I get done with my Biology Lab.”

“What I wanna hear.”

 

If yore Google computer in the den and yore bloodhound ya go huntin’ coons  with and yore cleanin’ lady with a tattoo the size of Delaware who comes in on Thursday to wipe off the pig slop in the living room and yore mechanic that fixes yore pickup and puts in points and plugs every bow season all go by the same name, Al, ya might be a redneck.

 

Interesting choice, the phrase “Day of Irritations”. Let’s see if we can make good use of combination of words.

 

On a 1944 headline of the Milford Enquirer

“MacArthur Fleet Bombs Honshu, Destroying 2 Nissan Plants, Including Line Of Sentras Being Shipped To Egypt!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Emperor Hirohito declared the attack a ‘Day of Irritations’.”

C’mon, it’s got possibilities.

Okay, you nitpickers out there, let’s go Room 222

“So what are you going to wear to the prom, Shelly?”

“I’m not going.”

“Why not?”

“The prom is on the same date as the Day of Irritations. I’m a Thorpist and Thorp simply operates through prayer and meditation and prohibits any kind of vigorous activity. I can’t even eat a Bucket Wienie.”

Later, in Mr. Dixon’s World Geography class

“…contrary to popular belief, the USSR never abutted upon the Cape of Good Hope. Africa was a target but Brezhnev was sick with flu in a Moscow hospital and could not commence Operation Africa in time…”

BRRRRRRRIIIIIINNNNNGGGGGGG

“That is all. Don’t forget your book report on Finland is due this Friday. Shelly, may I have a word with you?”

“Sure, Mr. Dixon, what’s up?”

“I heard rumors that you’re not going to the prom.”

“That’s right.”

Miss Johnson steps in

“Shelly, think of all the fun you’ll miss.”

“But Thorpism is the Way, the Truth, and the Life. I am going to sit butt naked in my bathtub and pray and fast on The Day of Irritations.”

Mr. Dixon has heard enough. Us TWIMers have SEEN enough

“Shelly, you can’t spend the rest of your life worshipping a man who never coaches, let alone worry about you.”

“And he tried to make a move on me and I said, your Ayers Rock hairline may be sexy to Mimi but you won’t even get Irish Spring soap from me and your hair is RAINING dandruff.”

“He tried to have his way with you, Miss Johnson?”

“That’s right. Threw the doggie shampoo bottle in his face.”

“Is it still too late to call Milford Formal?”

Mr. Dixon smiles when the 222 plot always has a happy ending

“No, a friend of mine works there and he can FedEx a gown by tomorrow. Who’s the lucky guy?”

“Bobby Howry.”

 

Okay, Okay, so it had a rough edge but the 222 ending worked, didn’t it? Didn’t it?

 

“And on the Day of Irritations, Shechem, you shall lead my people towards the Land of Canaan where you shall enjoy a feast of milk and honey. I will rain Manna out of the sky until that Day…”

Hey, I know The Bible well. The Annotated Version ought to find that SOMEWHERE

 

Two girls walk into the basketball gym

One says “Why is this game so short of attention

4 quarters short of attention

And, whoa, Mimi rambles about setting picks

Where’s the referees and the scorekeeper

What if the timer dies on the half court line

Who’ll be the other team

Now that it didn’t show up like last year’s season

It ducked behind The Bucket

With some roly-poly little zit-filled carhop

All along, all along

There were flagrant fouls and technicals

There were slammed basketballs and Gil’s ejection

 

If you’ll be my point guard,

I can be your long lost pal

I’m the power forward, I will call for the ball

And you can call me Al

 

And in P2, Rod Serling at 17 flirts(?) with Al and Phoebe, we TWIMers unsure of motives but confident will find out in a well-developed soap opera, i.e., at the expense of basketball. Isn’t it just peachy that we are thrown 3 characters right off the bat and really not holding our breath that THAT will be the limit?

And why is Mr. Serling added AT ALL? Is he going to have a sex change and join the girl’s team? Boy, don’t go in Mimi’s office and dump her with THAT one.

In Gil’s office one day, right after he washed his hands and dried them with Bounty towels after The Deluge in his personal toilet

“Coach Thorp, I’m quitting the basketball team.”

“WHY????”

“I’m pursuing other interests after my surgery at Milford General.”

 

Whoa, Nelly

Ooooookkkkkk, Gene Rayburn is here to save the day!!!!!! Take ‘er away, Gene.

“Dumb Dora was soooooooooooo dumb (HOW!!!!!!!!!!!!! DUMB!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WAS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SHE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!), she went through the cafeteria line with Al and Phoebe to buy plenty of __________________.”

 

And what is this in P3? Will this be a future installment on The Dating Game

“Bachelorette #3″, I understand you like basketball but you like archery, badminton, 5-stud billiards, dodgeball, indoor wiffleball, racquetball hockey, donkey nerf football, hallway X-country, heck, just about any sport in case Thorpiverse reneges on us and ditches basketball and there’s another sport Naismith hasn’t invented to entertain the masses in the wintertime.”

“What’s your point?”

“I was going to ask Thorpiverse the same thing.”

Funky music comes in for a landing, Marty Moon, the host steps in

“Well, that’ll wrap up this one. We’ll see which Bachelorette that Chris will pick in a moment, Phoebe, Ms. Rizk, or Al…”

 

 

“And that about wraps up this scrimmage here at the Milford High School Girls Gym. The Varsity beats the Reserves, 105-27, Al Watson leading the way with 45 points. I’ll have other stats in a moment, this is Marty Moon and you’re listening to WDIG, a division of Learfield Sports.”

 

“Aren’t you fired up for basketball? With Al Watson and her Jordanesque moves, the 5-game season should be a snap. I know I won’t have to listen to Mimi complaining until 1:00AM about the referees not calling a violation when the opposing free throw shooter steps on the line. Fair play is important, bitching about while I’m trying to watch Letterman isn’t.

Hi, this is Coach Thorp for Milford Beverage Warehouse. Y’know, I went into Milford Hobby Lobby the other day and I maxed out on my Visa Platinum trying to buy a wagon for my kids. And when I saw that I could buy other red wagons for lesser value, I asked the teenage sales clerk, what’s less money than a Radio Flyer? Do they sell Radio Flyers for the Taco Bell chihuahua?

But don’t sweat this one as Milford Beverage Warehouse has ya covered, as if you thought otherwise. They bought several truckloads of toys that were of lesser value that the kids could still enjoy while selling The Good Life to the rest of us. I guess if Otis the Drunk wants Tinker Toys to purchase with his 6-pack of Falls City, that’s his cross to bear but the rest of us just enjoy watching our kids play Monopoly while sippin’ on some Jack.

That’s why Early Times at $19.99 and Star Wars Action figures for just a few simoleons more is practically robbing the store. Don’t you want watch your young’uns pretend they’re Luke and Darth while trying to locate your chaser under the recliner? What a way to get into the Christmas spirit.

Or for you mellow people, you can watch the neighborhood kids cuss at each other at Stratego as you partake of Starborough Sauvignon Blanc, and those memories are only $12.99 and some loose change.

And wouldn’t it be nice if you were kickin’ back on Christmas Day while watching your kids play with a 1,435-track Lionel Train Set, something that got repossessed by some loser like Chet Ballard? And your 12-pack of Heineken well in hand? My goodness, $14.99 and your checkbook that couldn’t possibly bounce on this one is a small price to pay when you hear the engine chug-a-luggin’

But YOU need to get your own Barbie Dolls or the Toy Robot from Lost in Space to give to your offspring if you want to enjoy the Garden of Eden. Glenmore Gin or whatever suits your fancy is all right here at The Milford Beverage Warehouse. Come see how full your wallet will remain as you break the bank down here where it’s literally fun and games and tell ’em Coach Thorp sent ya.”

 

All right, Gang, it’s your turn. And don’t forget, ya doesn’t have ta call me T. Drew. Ya can call me T. or you can call me Drew…

 

A man walks by Phoebe’s and Al’s table

A table with some strange brew

Maybe it’s a chili dog and hash browns

Maybe it’s Cream of Wheat on Rye

Doesn’t speak their language

He’s too late for football

Shouldn’t be dropping in for lunch at 12:40

He’s surrounded by Mudlarks, Mudlarks

Some in the journalism room

Inchoate plots and lack of action technicals

He looks around, around

He sees two girls, tip of the iceberg

Rambling in infinity

Tells Thorpiverse “Get to the point, Amen”

 

If you’ll apply some Right Guard

I can be your long lost pal

I can call you Chris

And when you call me for a date

You can call me Al

 

“Coach Thorp, I can’t play on that date. My family celebrates The Day of Irritations”

“We didn’t make the Playdowns, Joe.”

December 11, 2019

Bonk, Bonk on the Head, Alexa!

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Alexa Watson is not only smart and tragically accomplished, she likes to reenact old Star Trek episodes. At 6’1″ and ripped, she looks to be this year’s Kenzie Hanley. Will she brk some jaws in the process? Maybe after one too many jokes about her name.

We’ve seen that swoony pose on Phoebe Keener before but not paired with, apparently, a sundial for a nose.

metapost: Apologies for the late post. Caught a redeye from the Thorpiverse, literally; bad weather on both ends put me home just before sunrise. Haven’t slept in over 24 hours so this post may reflect that.

December 10, 2019

Alexa, It’s Pretty Sad When I’m Bored When The Story Is Only Six Panels Old.

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I remember her well. She lived on an island off the coast of Mudlark Lake. Her name was Dorothy Pearl or Dr. Pearl for short. I never thought I’d be non-coaching for her several years later.

She said she was 1,187 years old. She held her age well. Hermie Shaw and Oscy Kaz used to make fun of me every time her name was brought up. A few examples:

“Geez, this Bucket Double Bacon Burger tastes like it’s been in the oven for days. Did Dr. Pearl light a camp fire there?”

“Damn, my book report’s due!!!!!!!!! If I wait until the Treaty of Westphalia, it’ll be late!!!”    “Isn’t that the year Dr. Pearl was born?”

“Why did Coach Thorp call a pass play on the 1-yard line? Is Dr. Pearl calling the plays from Versailles Palace?”

You get the idea.

 

“This Bucket Chili Dog has seen better days. I wouldn’t wrap a condom around this loser and have sex with-”

“SEE, HERMIE, I told you Gilby has a thing for Dr. Pearl!!!!!!!!!!!!!! A 15-year old virgin is going to have his way with an older woman!!!!!!!!!!! Tell me, Gilby, how was it when Dr. Pearl went in Napoleon’s tent? Did she like it?”

The story sucked

And football’s gone

I wretched all night

It went too long

Chance is cleared

He did no wrong

 

And when it was over

We never saw much to brag about

Against Valley Tech

Much less the season in toto

 

Chet’s in reform

His wife has warned

 

Gang, I’m sorry, P1 is starting this whole daggone story on the wrong foot ALREADY and I ain’t gonna do another Summer of ’42 rendition after basketball, assuming that’s the bill of fare, something that’s been the bill of fare the last 60 years and counting. It’s hard for me to imagine Alexa hittin’ the weights hard so she can be the Milford High School Girls’ Darts champion sponsored by Milford Lounge.

 

She throws her darts

With deft aplomb

She nearly missed

Moon’s glass of rum

Gil is concerned

Ate tons of Tums

 

Well. it needs a little sprucing but that’s as far as I’m going. For now, anyway.

 

Because I really don’t understand why the man in the car with Kentucky license plate 331 VBD used hate to get his point across at Papa John’s on Lower Hunters Trace and Dixie Highway in Louisville early this morning

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Neo-nazi Camp In Rural Milford Shut Down By Milford Health Board After Injury To One Of Its Members!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Safety concerns raised after member’s head was caught in the toilet in the outhouse after head-plunging procedure was going great guns.”

 

At the Milford Recording Studio, taping an advertising jingle for Gil Thorp Pure Pork Sausage

 

“Ahhhhhhhhh, Baby,

This meat is full of taste

And it’s ALL FOR YOU

 

Sit yo ass down and do

WHAT YOU GOT TA DO

 

Eat your ass blind

And experience Heaven’s

MASTERPIECE

 

No, no, don’t leave Gil this way

No, don’t leave Gil this way…”

 

“Anybody get a hold of Thelma Houston yet? I’m not getting my butt in the sling over copyright infringement”

 

Hi Crystal. I see you at Jeff Smith Marathon in Edwardsville, Indiana. She and Bre(like “key”) are two VERY friendly people who greet the customers with the utmost courtesy and respect. Throw in mechanics who get the job done as attested by all the cars that fill up the parking lot (BUSY) on the property and you have a whale of abusiness. But don’t take my word for it. Take Exit 118 off of I-64 in Indiana, head to 62 West and it’s the first road to your LEFT as you leave the freeway. You’ll see the business. Great gasoline, great prices, great mechanics. Gang, I think you catch my drift. Catch it at Jeff Smith Marathon and say hello to Crystal and Bre. You’ll be VERY glad you did.

 

WHAT is that thing in P2, splitting the girls? Is it that gigantic door from 2001: A Space Odyssey? I don’t see any apes around, at least none from the football team and the one ape that was making a spectacle of himself during football is at some marriage  enrichment seminar with his wife (Assuming she still claims Chet of the Jungle) . I’m still trying to adjust my eyes trying to translate Vulcan while going in the out door or going out the in door, same difference. Well, like Joe Walsh said, being a student at Milford High School is living a Life of Illusion. No better example than P2.

I don’t THINK that the obelisk wannabe is something anybody prays to five times a day. I was under the impression that Muslims pray towards Gil’s office that many times (“Surrender to the Will of Gil and accept Coach Kaz as his Prophet.”)

Oh, I KNOW (slaps head). It’s a stoplight. The hallways in the M.C. Escher hallways can get a little confusing. Helps to have Big Brother the Traffic Cop to sort it all out.

 

“Aw, C’mon, Gilby. Mimi really likes you. Hermie tried to make out with her and she said she only dates guys who referee her girls’ 5-game schedule. And I know you’re patched cuz I heard you scored a 92 on the open-book exam. You can’t keep fantasizing about Dr. Pearl forever.”

“Who are you going to make out with, Oscy?

“Marcia Brady!!!!!!!!!!! I heard she is really hot-to-trot after Alice the Maid showed her a few moves. Used a scrub brush to get her point across.”

That summer, I gained my manhood. We would marry 47 years later but making out behind the tackling dummies was more fun than a barrel of Nerf footballs used in the previous plot while Oscy and Marcia had some fun in the equipment shed, making sure the door was deadbolted so Luhm wouldn’t come in to fix the riding mower blades. Hermie had to settle for Dr. Pearl’s great-great-great granddaughter. He may have had to return her by the 8:00 curfew so she could finish her multiplication tables but he did get a kiss out of her. On the lips.

As for Dr. Pearl, watching her boobs press through her blouse while she was loading boxes in the attic was exhilarating. It was a little like observing gigantic prunes that the Jolly Green Giant eats for breakfast hanging through Kaz’s hammock but still exhilarating. The roar of Mudlark Lake bespoke her mystique. Her beehive bun came from Never Never Land.

 

And if we have to endure one more stinkin’ bad plot, we’ll be grumbling more than 3 times a week, rest assured.

 

Big shout-out to Thelma Houston. A very classy woman whose hit “Don’t Leave Me This Way” still rings true as it did when it hit the charts big back in 1977. Never one to rest on her laurels, she is still recording to this day and has acted in several movies and TV shows. I don’t know about you, Gang, but when a person still wants to keep performing even after she hit the Big Time, it is my humble opinion that that’s what makes a STAR. I salute you, Thelma, and hope you keep up the good work.

 

Gang, if I see one more Marcia Brady at 17 visage as in P3, I’m demanding my money back. I’ve already gotten refunded after returning a moldy Gil Thorp Pure Pork Sausage Flame-Broiled to Milford IGA, but I can always get another one out of the bunker, the ones next to the George Jones Old Fashioned Breakfast ‘n’ Bed Sausage. We can’t get another plot. Football proved the futility of that particular venture.

I was really working up my courage on a dare from Hermie and Oscy. Hermie Shaw had already disappeared like he always does when football season is approaching its climax. Asking for his mom’s Nair evidently was a bit too embarrassing. Surely the druggist at Milford Apothecary knew his mom shaved her legs.

At any rate, at the Milford Apothecary for Round Two

“May I help you?”

“Do you all sell banana splits?”

“Nope. The Bucket down the street does. Do you need directions?”

“No, that’s all right.”

Well, here goes

“I would like CruexJockItchmedicine100jockstrapsacoupleoffootballhelmetssomeLifesavers10rubbers5atheleticbandages534boxesofBand-AidssomehydrgenperoxideinthejanitordrumsizesoScottwillquitbitchingandapartridgeinapeartree.”

“We’re out of Lifesavers.”

“Do you have everything else?”

“Sure. Give me 15 minutes. My help had to make a delivery to Dorothy Pearl. Had to drop off her Ex-Lax.”

“No problem.”

Whew, that was easy. I couldn’t wait to see the looks on Hermie’s and Oscy’s face. Now I could go all the way with Dr. Pearl. Hermie would leave in defeat but you heard that before. Oscy would be able to buy rubbers and earrings with ease several decades later but by then he would be my assistant. And the druggist cheerfully came back

“Here you are. Have a nice day.”

“Gee, thanks. Oh, BTW, WHERE’S THE RUBBERS?”

“They’re underneath the football helmets, nice and neat.”

“Oh yeah. Sorry. Thanks, Mr. Druggist.”

“No problem. Hope she’s fun.”

 

So much for trying to sneak one past somebody. But I still had Hermie and Oscy with egg all over their faces. That’s what mattered for the moment.

 

Gang, I could be wrong but ol’ Foghorn here thinks Marcia Brady is tryin’ to execute a funny. It would HELP if we knew what the Hell she was talking about. I know what Watson the Supercomputer is, the IBM wunderkind, but WHAT IS IT REFERRING TO? We’ll have to toil through several more panels to get the joke? After several days, if Alexa’s weight training pays off by being able to lift Deep Blue off the ground with her index finger while holding a conversation with Marcia Brady about boys, the funny will have fulfilled its mission.

 

If ya gotta go to Milford A-poth-a-carry cuz ya is in-breedin’ once again with yore kid sister after ya got inta an argument over how many Tinker Toys got distributed to yaz both, b ut ya gotta hit the A-poth-a-carry once agin cuz ya ran out of pro-teck-shun, ya might be a redneck.

 

Because I’m still in bewilderment over these ads promising hardness for HOURS

 

While Coach Shaw has a problem on the Serta Love Sofa in the garage

“Hermieeeeeeee, it’s time to come to bed!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Come on down and do what ya got ta do!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“I can’t, Dear. I’m stuck between the cushions!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“Honey, don’t leave me this way. Now quit trying to pretend you have a problem and let’s have some fun.”

“I’M NOT KIDDING!!!!!!!!!!!! That Erec-9000 Vita-Plus Medicine sold by Milford Men’s Clinic was good as advertised. They weren’t kidding when they said she’d love you like a rock for hours!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I didn’t think I’d be stuck like a rock for hours!!!!!!!!! I can still get to my beer!!!!!!”

“Hermie, you’ve come up with some excuses before to not have sex with me but you had me fooled on those. I’m not buying this one. My heart is full of love and it’s all for you!!!!!!!!!!”

“And this LOVE SOFA IS FULL OF ME!!!!!!!!!!!!! Quick!!!!!!! I think that old See-Saw is behind the tool bin!!!!!!!!!!! Get it out and pry me loose!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“Hermie, If I leave YOU THIS WAY, you won’t have any carnal knowledge. Now stop making things up and hold my hand.”

“I can’t even hold my significant other, let alone get up from it!!!!!!!!! Did you ever try to stand up while your stomach’s on top of a flagpole?????”

“I salute you for your brilliant evasive technique-”

“Well, it’s either you criticize my lack of imagination for excuses or you can have anal sex. There’s an obvious problem with that.”

 

“Well, doggie, you can imagine the dilemma I was in. I didn’t want my wife to leave me but I didn’t know how to get down from Mt. Everest. But she FINALLY got the See-Saw if I promised to use the Erec-9000 on our second honeymoon.

But y’know, that’s a pleasant problem because I did get down and do I what I gotta do right on that Love Sofa. We just made sure to avoid the gaps in the sofa and Sexual Elixir was at a premium. Come buy a slice of your own troubles at Milford Men’s Clinic where your problems begin once your erectile problems end.”

 

Go at it, Gang. My money is on a week before we find out when the Supercomputer funny is grasped. Isn’t that when Looney Tunes comes on?

 

Gilby comes to Dr. Pearl’s retreat house on Mudlark Island. The whippoorwill is faintly heard in the distance.

He enters.

No one is in the living room. There’s a note on the coffee table

“Dear Doctor Pearl,

We regret to inform you that your husband was killed in action at the Second Battle of Bull Run-”

 

“Hi, Gilby.”

“Hi.”

“I’m sorry, I’m a mess.”

“For 1800 years, you look fine”

“I don’t think I do.”

 

Dr. Pearl heads to the kitchen

“I’m sorry”

Dr. Pearl turns around

Gilby and Dr. Pearl embrace and slow-dance to the Summer of ’42 Theme. The Summer Knows. More than it cares to know in this plot.

Dr. Pearl leads Gilby to the bedroom. Like watching a petrified tree undress, they finally come to bed. And Gilby is enjoying his Second Manhood.

“I think you should go now, Gilby.”

 

She left me a letter later

“Dear Gilby, I had a wonderful time that night. You didn’t need Vita-Plus to enjoy me and I thank you for that.

I hope good things and only good things happen in your life. I am leaving, never to return until I become Principal. It’s a pity that football didn’t leave sooner but sometimes you don’t win Antietam. But you’ll win the war, Gilby. Just not the football games. It’s been nice knowing you.”

And so my days in the Summer of ’42 were in a reverie, a block of events I rue I cannot bring back. We all went on to bigger and better things and football sank in the South Pacific. Sometimes poetic justice has a way of turning its vengeful head. But my boyhood was rewarding and taught me that you could disappear after you had the time of your life. I had Dorothy Pearl to thank for that. Now basketball awaits, belated so. There might be another Dorothy at the free throw line. One can hope.

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